Chronic
by thirteen-forty-two
Summary: Izaya suffers with chronic migraines, and quickly discovers that Shizuo is the only one who can help.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** What's up, friends? I don't know how many of you are familiar with this story (originally posted on the kinkmeme) but here it is! Finally!

Someone asked me a while ago to post it here, and I'm just now getting to it. I'm glad too, because I really enjoyed writing this story! It's the longest thing I've ever written, I think...

And I'll be posting two chapters at a time! So each update is a two-for-one! Yay!

Hopefully, I'll remember to update continuously... I've been bad about that. Sorry!

Please enjoy!

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><p>They're getting worse.<p>

And as I lay here on my back, I wonder how long it will take for this one to dissipate. Could be hours… or days…

What about when it ends? How much time of relief I will have before the next one strikes is beyond me. I try not to think about it. I simply want it to go away.

I keep my eyes closed because, when open, everything spins. Everything glows. Like lanterns all around me. Lanterns whose flames want burn out my eyes. It hurts. The dizziness shoots down to my stomach, and even when emptied for the tenth time, I still find myself surrendering to the dry heaves that follow, as if I can truly throw up the pain.

Most would find a sight of a shimmering aura beautiful. Not I. To me, nothing is more hideous because I know what it means. I feel it. Beauty rests only on the surface. Pain runs deep and unforgiving.

Surrounding noises give strength to the agony as well. Even the smallest feel like roars of some uncontrollable beast, unleashing its relentless rage on my weakened system. Every click, whoosh, buzz, beep, tap, slam…

Regular city sounds.

They reverberate in my head. The throbbing hits my entire body like a body builder attacking my brain with a hammer.

Lately, they've become so intense that it hurts to move.

The suffering that started on the right side of my head slowly began to extend down to my knees.

I feel helpless.

Paralyzed.

Each fragment of any given cacophony feels like bad news to my ears.

With a horrifying amount of force, I drag my aching body out of bed, stumbling as the blood rushes from my brain; yet the pain stays put.

This has gone on for far too long.

I can't work. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can barely see.

Ibuprofen does nothing anymore.

I don't want to be sick. I don't want to be weak. So this is a big step for me… actually asking for help…

My phone sits at my desk downstairs, far from my bed so that its constant vibrations are less irritating to my senses. By the time I reach it, my entire form is trembling under the weight of the pain. I could puke if I'd had anything to eat in the past forty-eight hours. Simply taking the black device in my hand is a challenge.

Convinced that I may never reach my bedroom at this rate, I trudge over to the couch and lay down once more. Sliding my phone open, I flinch at its fluorescent light, regretting the move instantaneously.

"Fuck…" I hiss, narrowing my eyes at the screen.

I can't bear to look at it for long. So I hurry to make the call.

The sound of the ring back tone damn near kills me.

Fucking nerd better answer before I cut my own head from my shoulders.

"Kishitani Residence," a sudden voice picks up, sounding all too cheery, in blatant opposition to my yet-to-be clarified misery.

An unrestrained whimper escapes me at the sound of Shinra's voice.

"Huh…? Izaya, is that you?"

Taking a moment to breath heavily, I swallow my pride, fighting past the torture as best I can. "Y-yeah…"

"You sound like you're hurt," he states matter-of-factly. I can just imagine the curiosity on his face while he pushes his stupid glasses up the bridge of his stupid nose.

"I… I…" I can't speak.

"Did Shizuo get you with another vending machine? You know if he did, you should just come over, I'll patch you up. Or shall I send my lovely Celty to come pick you up?"

"N-no…" I hiss between my teeth. "C-come… over."

"Jeez… what happened? You sound horrible."

I've tried too long to keep this secret of mine - blaming a heavy work load for my ambiguity. For being relatively invisible between Shinjuku, Shibuya, and of course, Ikebukuro. Instead, I've sent out what is left of my own subordinates - lesser informants - to do by bidding. And that crass assistant of mine only shows her face twice a week.

Namie knows something is wrong, but I could never actually tell her. I won't.

Passing these details along to Shinra is bad enough.

"Just…" I'm about to yell at him to hurry up and stop asking questions, but a wave hits me hard in the forehead. "Now."

I'm holding back from showing him just how much it hurts.

With my head held in my hands, I can feel my body trembling. I wonder if he can see it. I wonder how obvious I am.

I hear his pen scratching across papers held in place by a clipboard. The sound is something akin to nails raking down a blackboard. It makes me nauseous.

For the past hour, Shinra has been asking me questions, and now I believe he is researching my answers.

"Have you gone to a certified physician?" he asks me, replacing the scraping of the pen with his boyish voice.

"N-no," I say, shaking my head slightly.

"You should. You ought to get a CAT scan or something."

"I thought you were a good enough doctor to figure this out without all that shit," I whisper, falling back into the couch with my arm draped over my eyes.

"It's just a suggestion."

"What do you think it is then?"

Shinra sighs a sigh I always hate to hear. With him, if an expression like that breaks his sadistic, bubbly exterior, it's always bad news. Not news that makes you think, "Well that sucks."

Legitimate bad news.

"You say you've had these headaches for six months, and the severity is increasing?"

"Y-yeah."

"And they're screwing with your vision, and motor skills?"

"Mhm…"

"Judging by the length in which you say they're lasting, I don't think it's a tumor or anything you have to worry about," he sounds optimistic in this regard… but… "However, you're not going to like my diagnosis."

"Ne…?"

"How many times has Shizuo actually gotten a hold of you in your fights?"

"The hell kind of question is that?" I snap.

"Well, I think you're developing chronic migraines due to too many head injuries. Instead of brain damage or immediate injury, the pain you shouldn't have been able to withstand is, in a sense, catching up with you."

Removing my arm from over my eyes, I shoot a scowl at my friend. "So you're saying this is that fucking barbarian's fault!"

"W-well not completely! I mean… you do have a tendency to instigate a lot of your… uhm… what's the word I'm looking for…"

"Shinra! _Seriously_!"

And I've never wanted Shizuo to die quite so much as I do now. How I want to drive my knife through his chest, straight into his heart and sever his animalistic life from this world. I want to see that stupid blond ogre choke on his own fucking blood. I want to give him a taste of just how much it hurts.

Better yet, I could jab my blade into his idiot brain. Give him a taste of what it's like to lose sleep for days on end because my head hurts so fucking bad that I can't find a space dark enough, let alone quiet enough, to ease the suffering.

I want to fucking kill him.

"Look," Shinra says calmly, "Before you go on a vengeful tirade in that creepy, passive-aggressive way of yours, I can help."

"Help by dissecting that imbecile with a chain saw."

Instead, the doctor reaches into his bag and pulls out his pill stash. "Or I could just medicate you," he smirks.

"Screw that. I don't want some weird array of chemicals in my body!" I protest.

"So you don't want to feel better?" he asks knowingly, holding up a specific bottle.

Leering at him, I snatch it out of my hand, proceeding to examine the tablets. "These things are huge."

"Hm. Yeah. Take these whenever you feel a migraine coming on," he nods. "They'll do the trick."

I pop one in my mouth, finding it difficult to swallow. Does he really expect me to take one every time my head hurts? Does he know how often it does?

Shinra packs up his things and heads for the door. "Anything else I can do to help?" he wonders before making his leave.

"Yeah," I nod, "Tell anyone - especially Shizu-chan - about this, and you're dead."

The sadistic fuck giggles and heads out the door. His annoying laughter aptly reminds me of the pain bouncing around in my body like a Mexican jumping bean.

Fuck migraines.

Fuck Shizuo.

Fuck _everything._

I didn't ask for this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Well, now. We're already off to a great start! So I figure, I may as well update this once a day (if possible). I guess now is as good a time as any!

Please enjoy! And I'm also happy that some former readers are reading it again. :3

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><p>Three days have passed.<p>

I've determined that the pills Shinra gave me were the shittiest painkillers ever prescribed by a doctor to his patient. Those massive horse tranquilizers barely granted me any relief.

Yesterday, I took three at once. At most, they helped me sleep through a half the night.

But now, as I walk into Ikebukuro, I wish I had taken eight more.

Today is better than most. Getting a half-decent night of sleep is probably the only reason I'm able to walk right now. I can't think of a single thing that has caused me more pain than this atrocious headaches of mine, which does nothing but remind me that it's all that protozoan's fault.

Gritting my teeth, I silently curse his existence as I make my way to the hospital for a doctor's appointment. Since Shinra's weak painkillers are absolutely useless against my monstrous migraines, I'm taking his advice and having my head looked at. Though, I don't know why, because I don't think there's a single person in this city who isn't familiar with my name. Most of which think I'm insane - and that I have some sort of mental malfunction that makes me act like some sort of sociopath.

Keeping my hood up and my sunglasses on, I hide myself as much as possible from all sources of light. I'm even staying in shadows as I go. It's bad enough to have to feel this pain. Hiding from it is even worse. And if anyone recognizes me, I'm sure it won't take long for them to clearly recognize just how awful I feel and aim to make it worse.

In the waiting room at the hospital, I can feel the curious eyes of my humans settling on me. Instead of responding like I would so love to, I keep my eyes shut, waiting for the nurse to say, "Nakura-san, the doctor will see you now."

Like hell I'm going to let these _ordinary_ people (my love for them aside) know that Orihara Izaya bears a physical flaw to his being, as I already find it difficult to swallow.

But this floor is so busy…

Sound surrounds me, enveloping me relentlessly. Alongside the pain, the throbbing picks up, beginning slow and dull, like a fading heartbeat, only for each cough, cry, laugh, ring, song, to bring it further and further out of hibernation.

My hands begin to quiver. A sensation which begins at my fingertips and works its way up my arms to join my brain.

When I'm ready to explode, I lean forward and -

"Nakura-san, the doctor will see you now."

I stand up quickly, automatically carrying myself away from as many noises as possible. Inside an examination room, I sit on the table, and wait for the physician. All the while, the pain is worsening. I feel like I'm going to explode.

When the doctor finally does come in, my migraine has reached such a high point that I can barely hear what he's saying. Instead, I tell him what has been going on. I tell him about my skewed vision, nausea, and insomnia. I tell him that a friend of mine is a doctor, but not a very good one. And he understands without asking me a million questions.

Within ten minutes, I'm in a very cold room, on an even colder table.

The nurse is telling me not to move, which is hard, because the hum of the machine as it pulls me in makes it difficult not to flinch.

Half an hour later the doctor has results.

"Fortunately, your friend is right," he says, "You don't have a tumor. However, your migraines can be attributed to head injury. Have you gotten hurt recently, Nakura-san?"

"Huh?" I try not to sneer when he asks me this. "Hurt?"

"Hit your head, or maybe got into a fight or an accident of some sort?"

"No," I lie, honestly unable to remember the last time Shizuo and I had a fight, let alone a fight in which he won.

"It's quite possible that it's a misfire in your genetics. I'll prescribe you some medications specific to your case."

I thank him.

Showing myself out, I walk to the pharmacy, relieved to know that I don't have a tumor. Eager to keep these migraines from taking control of my life.

The label reads, "Take as needed."

Without hesitation, that's exactly what I do. In fact, I swallow two. And I am pleased that they are significantly smaller than the shit Shinra gave me.

That crap was useless, and within ten minutes, I can already feel relief coming over me.

Hopefully, it continues to work. I'd like to get my life back without anyone knowing that Orihara Izaya has a small, debilitating weakness.

Now, I can go home and –

"OI! FLEA! THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Can I just say…_ shit_?

With my hood pulled down over my eyes, my slow treading evolves into a brisk walk down the street at the sound of his voice. Maybe I can evade him this time. At least until I regain the strength to murder him for what he has done to me.

"Hey, trash! I know you heard me!"

Is he… really following me?

And did he_ really_ just refer to me as trash?

I stop in my tracks, taking a deep breath. This new medication isn't helping quickly enough, and the anxiety I feel as I sense him approaching closer is almost upsetting.

"What do you want, Shizu-chan?" I sigh, "Can't you see I'm leaving?"

"Your evil stench is polluting the air. The fuck are you up to now?" he venomously spits, gripping a street sign as I face him.

My eyes narrow. "I'm going home."

"Don't lie. You look shadier than usual dressed like that."

In retaliation to his primitive assumptions, I force a laugh. "Whatever. I'm not in the mood to play today. Go find someone else to beat up on, will you?"

"Not til you're dead, Flea."

"You think it takes something as trivial as a stop sign to bring me down, Shizu-chan?" my smirk is forced too. "Generally, it takes pesticides to destroy a parasite. Will you ever learn?"

"I think squashing you like the insect you are will do the trick just fine," he growls.

Nonchalantly as possible, I turn around and keep walking. "I told you, already. I'm _not_ in the mood."

This blond baboon certainly isn't helping the headaches which he is to blame for. But I know I can't let him see what kind of pain I'm in. If he knows this is his fault, he'll start a happy riot.

"Then what the fuck are you acting so sketchy for?"

That's it.

I can't fucking take this anymore. On one end, my brain is still pounding against the inner walls of my skull. On the other, the cause of it is two meters away from me, staring me down with those violent eyes of his.

Of all days, why today?

"If you must know," I snap suddenly, seething, "I'm headed home from a doctor's appointment."

I am incredulous as my angry adversary takes a careful step back, eyes widening. "Whoa…" he mutters, staring at his feet as he scratches his head in subtle disbelief.

"What, Shizu-chan?"

"N-nothing," Shizuo stutters, "I just… Never seen you mad like that, I guess."

"Yeah, well…" I sniff, feeling no reason to explain myself.

Thoroughly pissed off; wanting nothing more than to be left alone at this point, I don't finish my sentence. Instead, I stomp off and continue my journey home before he decides to use yet another street sign against my skull.

I swear that, as I make my leave, my ire toward that idiot is outweighing the painkillers, because by the time I reach my front door, my hands are shaking more than ever before while I fumble with my keys.

Once the door is unlocked, I fumble into my apartment, struggling with the pill bottle in my hands.

I actually feel lucky when my body clumsily makes it to the safety of my bed.

Within twenty minutes, I'm feeling subtle relief. Still much more than what Shinra's drugs did for me, this prescription is better than nothing. So I take another, wondering how long it'll be before my body needs a refill. I want to think it'll be weeks. Two or three. But the soft glow to every object in my line of sight says I'll be lucky to make it to three days. Four will be a miracle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** WOW! Was NOT expecting so many new readers. Thank you!

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><p>Okay.<p>

So maybe three days was a bit of an exaggeration for sixty pills.

However, I am heading back to the hospital nine grueling days later to have my prescription refilled. This cannot be healthy.

One at a time does nothing. Two at a time clears my vision, eliminating the haze for a few hours. Three gets me out of bed, reducing the nausea. Four makes it possible to sleep through the night. And five gets me high. Painfully high.

The problem is that they wear off too fast. And they certainly don't clear the pain. Instead, it's survivable.

In other words: these little pills aren't good enough.

These chronic migraines are going to end me long before Shizuo does. I believe this. Tuesday and Thursday, I was relatively pain-free, giving me the opportunity to complete a few jobs on my own before my physical defects send me into early retirement. Yesterday was Sunday. I made it through the morning, but by four o'clock, I sent myself to bed for the remainder of the day.

Today, Monday, I'm forced out of the house for the sake of feeling better. I took my last two pills this morning.

Again with my sunglasses, I force myself to appear normal on the streets of Ikebukuro.

Stupid Shizuo.

He always demands I stay out of this city. And here I am because I don't have much in the line of choices. This hospital is the closest to my apartment. He can't stop me from coming here to get what I need. Honestly, I should make him pay for it. I don't care about insurance, and I don't care if I instigate some of our fights. And I don't care if he makes shit for money. I should make him pay for fucking up my life like this.

The whine of a horse pierces through my ear drums as it approaches.

Doubling over, I cup my hands over my ears, shivering as the pain runs down my spine like a knife.

"Ngh…" I groan pathetically.

I don't look up from my siege of agony until an arm links with my own, tugging me upright.

Panting, I press my palm into my forehead before I find the courage to open my eyes. Meeting my own reflection in Celty's helmet, I ignore her for just a moment to examine myself.

These days, I don't turn the lights on when I go to the bathroom. Be it for a shower, or simply to wash my hands, the lights remain off to protect my sensitive head. Sometimes, I wish I could just go blind. I may as well be with the way I keep my eyes closed all the time. That way, my irises wouldn't be so sensitive. And I could have some mild relief from this malfunction of mine.

I look like absolute hell. Like I just escaped an insane asylum. Like I just spent ten years in solitary confinement while I was there.

[_Are you okay!_]

Celty's message breaks my attention away from her reflective helmet.

"I'm fine…" I lie, apathetic toward how obvious of a lie it is.

[_You look sick. I'll take you home with me and have Shinra take a look._]

This makes me laugh. Hard. So, that bastard finally decided to listen to me, did he? How funny. Yet, to not even tell Celty? That's new in its own twisted way.

"I already tried that," I explain to her, "He was useless."

If she had a face, she would be frowning. I can sense it. Something about her body's movements, along with the awkward spurts of smoke from her sleeves and helmet, make her easily predictable.

"Actually, I am a bit surprised he didn't tell you… I assumed Shinra tells you everything."

Her body trembles with a bit of anger. She quickly types her next message.

[_So did I_.]

Sighing, the very next thing I know, I'm venting to the Dullahan about my chronic migraines, Shinra's uselessness, and the drugs I've been taking to help me through the pain. She now understands why I've given her less jobs than usual, and why I lost my cool with Shizuo last week - which, apparently, he got right on ranting to her about after the incident.

When I've run out of words, I can't describe how much better I feel despite the pain in my head. Still, there has been a weight lifted from my chest due to putting my frustrations into words qualified to define them.

[_Get on my bike. I'll give you a ride to the hospital_.]

"Wait."

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><p>I stop, momentarily wondering if the chill that just tore down my spine split the skin.<p>

Trembling with an uneven mixture of agony and anxiety, I turn to face him before climbing on the back of Celty's motorbike.

"What could you _possibly_ want this time?" I hiss, narrowing my eyes on him.

Ignoring me for the moment, Shizuo sets his focus on Celty. Something about her body language reads as frantic, much like a child caught eating dessert before dinner.

"You don't really believe all that crap, do you?" he eyes her carefully, as if she has betrayed him.

She turns away, guilty of her innocent sins.

"The Flea is doing something shady," he growls through his clenched jaw. "Don't get tangled up in his lies. You're better than that."

Exasperated, I sigh. Nausea is sneaking up on me again. I know if I don't get to the hospital for my prescription soon, I'm going to throw up my breakfast. And just so we're clear, there is nothing appealing about puking udon. Dare I shudder at the thought.

"What makes you so sure of that, Shizu-chan?" I interrogate him, aggravated by his constant assumptions toward me.

"Look at you," he scowls. "You've been out of Ikebukuro for months, and suddenly you start showing up again, trying to disguise yourself with those over-sized sunglasses and that stupid gray jacket. What am I supposed to think?"

I feign the most offended gasp I can muster in my current, downtrodden state, reaching up to clutch the ebony fur trim of my new coat. I haven't abandoned the other one. It's February. This one is warmer! "STUPID? Don't go comparing my belongings to yourself, Shizu-chan," I bite.

The blond ignores my retort. "What are you up to, Izaya? What are you scheming?"

He steps closer, clenching his strong fists. At any moment, I'm sure he'll be ready to throw them at me. However, I have neither the strength to evade him; nor the desire to fight. Then again, if he hits me, I know I'll end up feeling worse.

"I'm going to the hospital," I say dryly. Why should I lie?

"I don't believe you."

He never does. I could be falling to my death from the World Imports building and he still wouldn't believe me if he witnessed it himself.

"Why is that?"

"Cause you always go to Shinra. We both do."

"Ever stop to think that as an underground physician, there's only so much he can do?" I question logically. "Not all of us are indestructible gorillas."

With that, I move to join Celty on the black bike, but the idiot grabs me by my upper arm, ripping me backwards. My head snaps back, instantly feeling as though it has just been messily torn from my shoulders. In his grasp, my body frozen by the overwhelming chill of intolerable pain.

As I lose focus, everything sounding and appearing as if I were trapped under water, I watch Celty - seemingly so far away - leap off her bike and pry me out of this man's deadly grip.

When Shizuo releases me from his vice, I fall against the closest wall, still stunned. My migraine echoes vengefully through my entire body.

You know those scenes in movies, when something happens to a lead character? Their entire world slows down around them for moments that feel like hours, only to suddenly push them back into a reality that seems all the more sped up?

This is exactly what happens to me.

The pain dulls my senses, and now every sight, smell, and sound feels like it's murdering me. Stabbing me over and over with the same blunt knife. Gasping for relief, I search my pockets for pills I no longer have. My knees cave, refusing to hold me up any longer.

"Ngh... aaahn..." I can't help the string of whimpers that follow the pounding rhythm in my head.

My body curls into myself as I hook my hands around the back of my skull, digging my fingernails into my scalp as if it were at all possible to tear out the massive influx of agony.

I can't keep fighting this. I can't even hide it anymore.

This thing... this_ curse_... it owns me, controlling my every move by prodding at my body; keeping me weak.

I'm helpless to fight it.

I'll never be free.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I have nothing to say, other than WEEEEEEEEEEEE~ thank you!

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><p>Do you want to know what it really feels like? I mean<em> really and truly<em>? May I paint you a vivid picture with my words?

It feels like I've been walking around wearing a ball and chain around my neck, and instead of building up the muscle to resist its weight, it has gradually broken me down over these torturous months. Stretching my muscles. Cracking my bones. My head feels the weight of so much pressure…

Though, this isn't imprisonment.

This is hell.

Inescapable. Unmistakable. _Hell_.

No. Wait.

I will go as far as to say that I would prefer Hell to whatever this is.

I can't do it anymore. I can't. I can't. I can't.

I'm done.

This is Orihara Izaya giving up.

Void of strength, I allow myself to become a vulnerable heap molding into the pavement. It hurts less if I stop caring. It hurts less to let the migraines win. And I'll be damned if I'm about to reach out for help because of it.

I'll stay here until it passes; then I'll hail a cab to take me home.

Am I letting my guard down this way? _Yes_.

Am I making myself a clearer target to my enemies?_ Yes_.

Is this ridiculous, even for me?_ Yes_.

If this is how I have to live the rest of my life... so be it. I'll figure something out. Later.

I'll be fine soon. Maybe not now. Maybe not in the immediate future, but soon enough. I will conquer this eventually. And when I do, I will ruthlessly murder Heiwajima Shizuo.

I don't care if these people see me weak, or suffering. Let them stare. Let them talk. Let them spread their rumors, as it is fuel to my fire. I can't even hear them anymore. I can't hear anything over the steady thumping in my head.

Hm...

At least - if nothing else - I am beginning to feel warm against the chill of winter, as the new spring season slowly rolls in. Warm with a drowsy heat, like that of a fireplace in the dead of a snowstorm. The kind of warm that little girls believe fairytales are made out of, with that climactic sense that things don't get much better than this. Warm with the tingling sensation that I will have my revenge.

This heat which I hold responsible for making me forget my messed up head. This affliction, aching so much that it has finally become a sultry numbness.

If this is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life, I suppose this isn't so bad. If my selection of choices grows thin - if pills can do nothing to free me - this is what I choose. To fall so deeply into paroxysm that I can't feel it anymore.

Drowning in the misery. It doesn't become a part of me. I become a part of it.

Well, that's just fine.

Have your way with me, anguish. See how much I care.

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><p>"Always with the damn lights!" I hiss, coming out of a daze; migraine still in tow.<p>

"Sorry!"

I witness Shinra retreating back a bit as my eyes come into mild focus, again with the usual haze settling on everything I see.

"Why am I here?" I ask in a demanding tone, taking mental note of how tired I sound.

"Well..." the doctor scratches the back of his head, "Shizuo didn't exactly believe you… about your... condition..."

"Tch. Figures."

And it figures that I would be the fucking idiot who let the brute find out in the first place!

"I sent Celty to pick up your prescription, by the way," he stated, sounding rather proud of himself. "Shizuo went with her. They should be back any time now. How's your head?"

I grumble, "You're making it worse."

And he aptly shuts up after muttering a mousey apology, turning off the lights as he shows himself to his little office behind a glass wall.

To be honest, I don't care whether he leaves me alone or not. All I can think about is that warmth swooping in on me again. It has left me now. Why did I come out of it? Where did it go? Why did it abandon me as if it were nothing more than a distant dream? Does it understand me only to mock me with its disappearance? Am I nothing more than a game, just has humans are a beloved game to me?

I would not expect it to quench the pain, as nothing can. However, I would be lying to myself if I denied its help. That numbing heat. I need it back.

The front door opens with a screech that stabs my system with a hundred-thousand needles. Muscles tightening, I clamp my eyes shut as hard as I can, riding out another ambiguous wave of torture.

As one may expect, Shinra is the first to open his mouth. "Ah, I was just telling Izaya that you'd be back soon!"

There is a brief moment of silence.

"Did you run into any problems at the pharmacy?"

More silence.

"Of course, of course. He's still on the couch."

Again - silence, and a single set of footsteps across the wooden floorboards.

"Where'd Shizu-chan go?" I ask for my safety as Celty hands me a paper bag containing a fresh bottle of pills.

I quietly read the label, pleased to see my doctor increased the dosage.

[_Smoking. Outside._]

Celty holds out the message, and I give her a frown, disappointed that a bomb didn't fall on him while they were out. One can dream, ne?

Next time. Next time it will happen. I'll make sure of it.

For now, I turn my frown into another forced smirk, popping three tablets in mouth. "Good dog," I mutter. "At least that animal will listen to someone."

"Look, don't go blaming me just 'cause your head is fucked up."

The man in question walks through the door with his usual scowl.

"You are aware that this is your fault, aren't you?"

"Stop provoking me and maybe there wouldn't be a reason to wanna wipe you off the planet!" he snaps.

"And what am I doing to provoke you, Shizu-chan? You're the one who comes onto me!"

A light flush stains his cheeks for a few seconds as if I were accusing him of feeling something a little more intimate than pure loathing toward me. With a growl, he obliterates the redness, clenching his fists as always.

"You know damn well it's your maggoty existence," he barks.

Shizuo is annoying me again. Instead of having fun with his moronic opinions, I find myself irritable by his every word. I think I have every right to be pissed off; to hate him more than I ever have before. Yet, somehow, when he's near me lately, I feel like I have some idea of the animosity he feels toward me.

And it blows.

"FYI,_ idiot_, my 'maggoty existence' doesn't even enjoy itself anymore, thanks to you, so screw off."

I admit, watching him open and close his mouth several times, unable to think of a retort, is making me feel pretty smug right now, even if there is a chance that I do deserve this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** AAAAH~~~ Kind words! :3

Thank you! I really appreciate knowing what you think of my writing! I'm so glad to gain new readers! You have no idea! Sorry for the late update. Somebody forced me to have this thing called a "life" today.

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><p>"Sorry this idiot dragged me here," I tell Shinra, stuffing my prescription in my pocket after straightening out my coat. "And don't try to stop me from leaving."<p>

"The choice is yours," the doctor nods with the slightest of smiles, leaning back in his office chair.

Mine is better. And I'm sure he didn't do much to help me anyway. After all, I'm the one who passed out. He's the one whose medical expertise failed me.

Oh well. At least somebody understands the pointlessness in sticking around.

I head for the door. With my shoes on and my hand on the doorknob, I'm nearly free from these people until the one who deserves a railroad spike through his fucking skull speaks.

"So… it's true then…"

Hearing Shizuo's frown without seeing it for myself, I smile cynically towards myself.

"And it's really… my fault…?"

I try my best not to think about my migraine. However, the fact that he has decided to make it the subject of conversation at such a time makes it a bit difficult.

Unable to help myself, I turn around with feigned incredulity. "Oh? You mean, you_ didn't_ think it was possible for Orihara Izaya to suffer from a little thing called_ PAIN_?"

"Well… I…" the blond hangs his shaggy head rather shamefully, "No… I thought you were…"

"Faking it?" I finish his sentence for him, taking a slow stride back into the apartment, shoes still on. "Tell me, Shizuo -" I speak his full name to allow my animosity to sink into his senses like lemon juice in a fresh wound, "Why I would fake_ this?_ What good could it possibly do for me to stay in bed all day? What scheme could I possibly string together while I'm collapsing on a public sidewalk?"

"Sorry," he grumbles, "But I can't fucking trust you."

"You think this is about trust?" I snap.

He takes a step backwards. I follow closely, making sure he feels trapped.

"I've been on self-proclaimed medical leave for three months out of six," I state, being sure to shoot daggers from my eyes, "I'm not looking to fuck up your day, Shizu-chan. I'm looking to fix mine."

Ripples of pain move through my head like the aftershock of an earthquake. Flinching, I massage my temple for a moment. When the steady ministrations don't help, I swallow another useless pill.

The chemical tablets are not enough to sway my suffering immediately. My body chooses instead to sway with increasing vertigo. To balance myself, I have no other choice than to rely on another wall, pressing myself up against it for support.

Suddenly, for reasons I cannot explain, it's all becoming a bit silly -_ hilarious_ - in its own tedious manner.

Think about it.

Here I am, with a throbbing headache, stuffing pills down my throat like they're tic-tacs, while the man who put me in this awful position stands on the opposing side of the room looking as if he genuinely feels guilty for what he has done. Has his protozoan brain really forgotten that we despise each other? As much as I hate him, and as much as I love to see him so gloomy, it pisses me off to no end that he is not - at the very least - reveling in this minor victory of his.

So I do what any jaded, cynical, distressed Orihara Izaya should do.

I laugh.

"Oh, Shizu-chan," I roll my eyes mockingly, "Don't stand there looking like you're suffering more than I am! A brute like you. Tch…"

Watching his fingers curl into his hands, forming tight fists at his sides, I chuckle again, standing my ground as best I can. I'm not afraid of him. I mean, what more could he do to make this any worse? Migraines that give me inertia five days out of seven. Shit. He might as well kill me where I stand if he plans to do anything about it.

"I might hate you…" he grumbles, "I really, _really_ hate you… but… I didn't mean to…"

I scoff. "Ne? I'm sorry? So you didn't mean for all of those vending machines, trash bins, and lampposts to hit me in the head?"

Shizuo straightens himself out a bit. "Well… yeah. I did… but…"

"But…?"

"I dunno. Kinda defeats the purpose to kick your ass if it's taking this long for it to catch up with you…"

"It's not like I didn't feel them as they were happening," I tell him. "What do you care, anyway? Point is, I'm stuck like this until someone gets me a cure. And I owe it all to you."

"I don't really think that counts as a point, Izaya…" Shinra gives his two cents, immediately falling back into his own observant silence when he retrieves threatening looks from me and the blond.

"Whatever. I have better things to do," I mutter, turning back toward my exit.

I have a warm bed to get to, and you can bet I'd much rather be tucked between the soft, cotton sheets than stuck here for another minute.

* * *

><p>Down on the ever-bustling streets of Ikebukuro, I wave down a cab, feeling too sick to walk home. That brute has my stress at dangerous levels and a long walk would only have me thinking about him more than I would ever like to. As the driver pulls to a stop, I pop another pill in my mouth hoping this one will do the trick. I should be able to sleep by the time I get back to my apartment. If not, there's always another.<p>

I hate depending on these chemicals for a false sense of relief. I keep banking on them to help me as if they'll heal me despite how truly temporary they are.

I don't know why the medication isn't working. Maybe I just have to convince myself that it is. Maybe it's all psychological. The pain and the relief. Maybe I've just been stressed... for six months.

Ugh.

Or not…

Reaching out to open the passenger door, my hand is tugged away by a strong force which shoots a hot tingling up my arm. I freeze at the surprising sensation, my breath hitching in my throat as recent familiarity floods back to me.

That warmth…

Swallowing shock, I follow the hand wrapped around mine up a clean white sleeve until my shaded eyes settle on gold.

I give Shizuo a skeptical glare. My head pains itself even more with the slight sensation of panic.

That heat… it was…

NO!

Realization strikes me like a whack to the back of the head, hurting all the same.

He didn't!

Without a word, I narrow my eyes into fine slits, hoping my daggers are sharp enough to make him bleed. When he doesn't, I silently rip myself out of his grasp. I have no words strong or poisonous enough to verbalize just how I feel about him right now. The overpowering sensation of hatred just keeps growing within me, like a monster that needs to feed constantly in order to sustain life.

No words. Just malice.

Leaving him without retort, I climb into the patiently waiting vehicle, ignoring the driver's panicked eyes as he glances back and forth between me and my enemy. When I begin to speak directions to my building, he looks as if he's wet himself after he jolts in his seat. I smirk at the reaction, though my mind is elsewhere.

Still scowling at Shizuo as we drive away, I can't decide what bothers me more - what he has done, or what he just did.

And there's no way in hell I want to believe that such a comforting sensation of tender, numbing warmth could radiate off a monster whose ire has done nothing but cause this city destruction.

What a joke… yet so fascinating.

That I could ever feel better in the hands of that single-celled organism is preposterous. It is more likely that Tokyo will split in half and Godzilla will emerge from the fiery gaping trench - which says a lot. Godzilla lives in the Pacific; not in the earth's mantle.

Anyway… it's not like that imbecile is the only creature on this planet that emits heat, and there are plenty of objects that do. Like heated blankets and the like.

Curiosity has always been a curse in its own way. I want to know things. About everything. However, suddenly wondering if any of those material possessions are quite so comfortable as human - if you can even call Shizuo that - heat makes me feel awkward. I don't like it. Whether or not it's because the more I tell myself how stupid it is, the more I crave it, isn't something I can clearly sort out right now.

Instead, I try to remove my thoughts from such matters, because matter they do not. I may not be working much these days, but my bank account has hardly dwindled due to the fact. I have all of the means necessary. If I want cozy heat, I'll buy it.

Deciding there is no reason to fret over something so trivial, I switch my thoughts to a different subject, finding myself disappointed when they aren't too far off from the former. When the thought of Shizuo carrying me back to Shinra's apartment enters my imagination, I can't decide whether to laugh or frown.

Naturally, the mental picture of that beast begrudgingly holding me - probably because Celty made him do it - is something to smirk about. On the other hand, it infuriates me that the blond thinks he has the right to touch me, regardless of my state at the time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUU! I love the feedback. I wasn't expecting this at all. You guys are looovely.

Sorry if I don't reply to it through messages. I don't get to get on here all that much. I'm so busy writing stuff for the kinkmeme and studying, so I kind of just update, read feedback/reviews, and poof! So thank you!

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><p>When I arrive home, the first thing I do is get online and order the highest rated, most expensive heated blanket I can find. I don't care how much it hurts to watch the glowing computer screen in front of my face. I don't care if it makes this headache worse. It must be done while I try to laugh off the insane idea that fucking Heiwajima Shizuo - of all monsters - could ever be as good as this thing.<p>

It probably costs more than what he makes in a year anyway. Plus, the purple color it's available in would look nice in this loft of mine. Too much of this cold gray could stand to be countered by the heat of an electric blanket in a nice plum shade.

I even chose the fastest shipping available. I'll have the thing by tomorrow morning. Afternoon at the very latest.

With that taken care of, I drag myself to the kitchen, but I'm not hungry.

Realizing my appetite is shot from a taxing day, I next decide to take a hot shower, relaxing against the jet of water as it pounds into my skin; relieving much of the tension in my muscles. I stay under the stream until I am half-convinced that I've used most of the hot water in the building, as it is a nice thought to think I have it all to myself. Not to mention, focusing on the powerful jet takes my mind off of that moron, at least until my fingertips shrivel and begin to bear the same wrinkly texture as dried cranberries.

I turn off the water, immediately feeling the air nip at my skin; consequently provoking the demons in my head to stab my brain with torches and pitchforks.

Afterwards, I make some herbal tea, not hesitating to take it to bed with me. The power of herbs is a wonderfully mysterious thing.

Unfortunately, as I lay in my bed, waiting for the sun to fully set over Tokyo, the tea is not enough to warm me as I wish to be warmed. My bed is big... cold... lonely... doing nothing to ease the aches which begin in my skull and end at my kneecaps.

I've always been the type of guy that knows exactly what I want. However, as I lay here, I can't help but feel like something is missing. Hoping it's just because I'm a mixture of eagerness and irritably, I decide it's better that I just go to sleep, whether or not it's only four o'clock in the afternoon.

No matter how much I toss and turn, searching for kip and comfort, I can't find it. All I can think about is what it felt like to lose myself in Shizuo's unbreakable hold. As temporary as it was, I haven't felt that good in months, making it all the more painful to be ripped away from it so suddenly.

Why couldn't he hold on... just a little longer... just enough to stop my hands from shaking, or for my hazy eyes to experience a bit of clarity for once in these agonizing days?

Will my blanket do that? Will it push away the suffering he has brought down on me, like some sort of typhoon?

The answer is no.

I plug in the thermal blanket, constructed of high-quality fabric and a net of wires. Turning it to the highest setting, I wait for the warmth to spread throughout the insulated material. When I've given it long enough, I wrap it around my body.

I am unsatisfied from the second it brushes over my shoulders.

This thing isn't hot enough.

I need something more. I need something that doesn't need to be plugged in, or charged, and that doesn't come in "your choice of ten luxurious colors." Maybe it's nice for snowstorm weather in Canada, but for what I'm feeling, this blanket does not compare to the sensation of a body at ninety-eight degrees in February pressed against mine.

For when it flooded my inhibited senses, I knew immediately that there was no comparing it to anything else. It was better than the high any meds can give me. And it was warmer than the heat emitting from this overpriced square of fabric.

Glancing back and forth from my new, useless blanket to my phone, I realize that I might be desperate.

God damn it. I _hate_ being desperate.

Today is better than yesterday. Fortunately. A lot better. My head hurts, but for once I am nausea free with clearer vision. It's better. But I wouldn't call it good. And for once, I just want to feel… satisfactory at the very least.

Good.

_Truly_ good.

As in, good enough to leave this apartment, go for a pleasant walk, or pick up ootoro from Russia Sushi without some fear that I won't make it there - or worse: that I don't throw it up.

I want a day to feel like I have my life back.

Could I really...?

No.

And then I go as far as to recall his hand around mine, with a confused look in his caramel colored eyes; verging on injured as if he had a million things he wanted to say before I stabbed him in the heart with a well-sharpened knife.

He could help…

If I read that gaze correctly, as some sort of discomfited apology, he might be the cure…

Snickering to myself, I find the irony in such a hypothesis, that the cause of my illness may also be the cure, much like a spider's venom to its bite. To make a concoction eligible to ward off the poison, you must use it.

Nature is a fucking hypocrite, even more so when it involves Shizu-chan.

Whatever. After the first time, I shouldn't have too much of my dignity left.

Dropping the blanket, I force myself up from the couch, over to my desk where I stare blankly at my phone. After I while, I press my palm into my forehead.

Fuck it.

I'm_ still_ Orihara Izaya.

I'm_ still_ brilliantly shameless, and no migraine of mine is going to get in the way of that.

Grabbing the phone, I select his number among my long list of contacts. Never before have I called him. Never before had I intended to. The only reason I have it now is because… well… because I'm an information broker. It simply seems right that I should.

As always, the dial tone bothers my senses, making it all the more relieving when he answers - until it truly hits me that this is Shizuo we're talking about.

"Hello?" he states the greeting as a question.

Suddenly, my mind goes blank. He doesn't know it's me. And I don't know how to tell him.

"I said 'hello,'" he grumbles, "If you're not going to answer-"

"Calm down, Shizu-chan," I force myself to stay cool, deciding that it might be best to just let my tongue say what it must.

On the opposite end of the line, he growls; yet I swear I can hear it from across town without the phone. "How did you get my fucking number?"

"Eh? Some might say it's part of the job description," I sigh, "But if you really must know, Shinra gave it to me months ago."

"The hell do you want then? Eh, Flea?" There's a strain in his voice. Something about the way he is speaking is different than what I'm used to. A sense of violent rage is still present, though lacking its expected animosity. I would do better to get this over with quickly.

"Yesterday."

"What about it?"

"You carried me."

"So…?"

"And when you grabbed my hand -"

Shizuo's turn to sigh. "It was nothing. Just forget it, okay?"

I can't help but let out a superior sounding chortle. "Forget? You can't be serious, Shizu-chan."

"Well, tough shit!" he snaps, "I am!"

"What did you think you were doing?" I press.

"Nothing. It was just impulse."

Come on, Shizuo. I know you're better than this, excuses or not. Then again, you are highly unpredictable to run alongside your impulsiveness…

"What do you want, Izaya?"

"Business."

He goes silent for a long while, but I know he's still there, attempting to process how a single word could carry so much weight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** SORRY I'M LATE! I've been severely distracted recently. I'm working on too many stories and getting NOWHERE with any of them. Lol. I didn't even write yesterday. I wanted to draw. But I didn't do that either. xD

I have a question. Do you guys like the English dub of Durarara! I love it. I love both dubs, but maybe I'm biased because I'm a huge fan of JYB. If there's anything I love almost as much as Durarara!, it'd be Code Geass. Lol... or Digimon. But that's beside the point.

Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback! It's so encouraging to know people are reading this!

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><p>"I'm not doing <em>any<em> of your fucking filthy work for you," he grumbles. I can just imagine him holding the phone up to his mouth as he spits these words, so bitterly. "You can fucking forget it."

Cynically droning, I respond to his assumption. "This has nothing to do dealing information, Shizu-chan. If you would listen, you would know this is something of an entirely different matter. As a result, I would be grateful if you explained to me your rationale for grabbing my hand earlier. Impulse or not, what were you thinking?"

"Nothing," he blatantly lies, "I just know I didn't think you were telling the truth."

"Hm… contrary to popular belief, it is my job to provide clients with said truth. Not everything I say is_ entirely_ dishonest."

"Yeah, well…"

"_Well_…?" I echo.

"Fuck. I'm sorry, alright? I can't take back what I've done to you. Even if you fucking deserve it, I-"

"Stop," I cut him off.

I don't want to hear some long apology, riddled with excuses. I know what I deserve. Shinra and I have talked it over many times, about how someday my actions would, indeed, catch up to me. I feel silly for always assuming karma would catch up to me in a much different manner than chronic headaches. I'd always envisioned something more poetic. Like murder, or suicide. That being said, nobody ever told me I can't retaliate. And that's precisely what I intend to do.

These migraines may as well be punishment, but I'm going to get rid of them. Somehow.

"Let's say I was willing to forgive you," I say, attempting to be professional, as if he is no different than any other client.

"Let's say you were," his words are biting and sarcastic, but he is intrigued.

Hopeful now, I smile. "My, my, Shizu-chan. A little agreeable today, aren't we? How nice!"

"See how long it lasts. Keep talking."

I snicker at the growl which adds a threatening inflection to the end of his sentence. "You feel guilty for what you've done; that your violence has gone this far as to inflict permanent damage on someone, even if that someone is me."

"So? Make your point."

"What I'm offering here is a chance for you to redeem yourself. Not only in my eyes, but in yours as well. In Ikebukuro's. You can't make up for all the things you've destroyed, but even you know that a little bit of relief is better than none. And relief is exactly what I'm after."

"I told you I'm not doing any of your damn dirty work, Izaya. I knew you were up to something shady, and if you think I'm gonna help a louse like you, you can forget it!"

So irrational. Albeit, nothing I can't easily handle.

"And I told you that it's nothing like that, ne?"

Another brief moment of silence follows before I hear him release a breath. "If I help you... you'll forgive me?"

"Correct."

"Tch... Somehow, I think I'll live without it."

Rolling my eyes, I sink into my office chair. Damn it. I should have known I would have to do better. Though, as much as it sickens me, I can't give up. As screwed as it is - as I am - I need this Neanderthal.

"Ah, now don't go jumping to conclusions, Shizu-chan," I take a deep breath, unable to believe that I am actually going to extend my offer this far to the man I hate most in this universe.

Damn him for being the closest thing to a cure I can find. What kind of sick, twisted world are we living in anyway? Alas, I don't know how much longer I can handle this torment before it kills me. I feel myself becoming weaker by the day, succumbing to these horrible days when all I want is some semblance of normality back in my life.

"Help me, and every vending machine in Tokyo will forgive you, too."

"What are you saying?" he suddenly sounds severely intrigued, as if he is on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

"Do this for me, and I'll pay off the debt you owe to the city for our fights."

* * *

><p>I can hardly believe that I'm this desperate. Yet, as much as I would love to resent myself for it, I can't. I can't seem to feel like what I've just done is a mistake. Then again, I've never needed anything quite so much. It just feels... right.<p>

Humans, including myself, are just the type of interesting creatures who would do something absolutely heinous when all other ideas have failed. I could survive the way I am, with these monstrous migraines, but as long as I don't have to, I won't. I'm willing to try anything at this point.

Surviving isn't enough. I'm too adapted to living life by my own rules, with my ridiculous standards and fluid control. Surviving is much too simple to say the least. Too animalistic for my refined tastes.

I _need_ to live.

Moving myself back to the couch, I lay down, lightly laughing to myself with amusement. Shizuo has no idea what I'm about to use him for. Based off the promise I made to him, I wonder if he even cares.

If there's anything I'm good at, it's human beings and money. Even monsters like him can't help but give into the power of currency, especially in the copious amounts I've offered it. In my line of work, I'm lucky. Being a self-employed informant really does have its perks. Financial income has never been something to question. It has never played itself as a fear or concern. Especially not like this forthcoming migraine.

In little under a month I can make three times the cost of what that barbarian damages. Paying for the destruction is a small price to pay for relief. The fact that I have to use him in such a manner - one that requires us in such close proximity - is what I expect to be the real challenge.

By no means do I want him touching me; nor do I want to touch him. So it angers me to think that this is all his doing to begin with. I just hope he remembers that instead of letting his feelings get the better of him. This is happening because he threw one too many metal objects into my skull.

Why should I pay the price of both our actions without getting something in return?

Shizuo is surprisingly good at following directions, even when I could hear his teeth grinding together while I recited them.

At the end of the conversation, he really used that brain of his for something useful.

_"How do I know you're not just gonna rip me off?" he asked me suspiciously._

_I promised I'd wire it to the proper location little by little until there was nothing left._

_"I want some kind of proof," he stated, very serious in his request._

_"Done. I have a sickening feeling in my stomach that says I'll be seeing a lot of you, Shizu-chan. You can watch me make the transaction weekly. Think of this as a second job to coincide with your own."_

_"Yeah, well, whatever the hell this is, doing it doesn't make you my boss. Got it?"_

_"Very well," I had sighed, feeling my grin slip a little. "Try to get here around five."_

So now I'm waiting for the protozoan's arrival, drowning in a much needed silence as time goes by. The new blinds on my wall-length window are closed, blocking out all but the smallest slivers of natural light. I keep the apartment at seventy-eight degrees with the heat on. All sources of noise are off. Three fresh pills are dissolving into my system, but I still feel a little sick. For this I blame the stress of never knowing when to expect an attack.

Thinking about all of the things that should be is killing me slowly. I should be down on the streets that I am hidden from, working with my favorite clients, observing my humans, twisting minds. I even think that Namie should be here, filing paperwork while she tells me how despicable I am when I end a call with Shiki, or cause an uproar within Dollars.

There are so many things I should be doing. Being unable hurts almost as much as the reasons why.

All I can do now is wait with the hopes that, as much as I despise him, he can save me from this.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** DOUBLE UPDATE BECAUSE I GOT A 97% ON MY JAPANESE FINAL! WOO! I only missed one. I don't know which one it was, but I don't care! I'm so excited!

Now for the hard part though. The oral exam. x_x

My reading is pretty good, I think, but my speaking is awwwful because I have nobody to speak it with! ;A;

Anyway! Enjoy this update! And please let me know what you think. I loooove hearing from you guys! It's so awesome! I am SUPER stoked. WEEE!

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><p>Seven minutes past five o'clock, there's a strong knock at my door. My body jolts out of a semi-conscious trance while my hand immediately reaches for my head.<p>

Before getting up, I will my sleepy eyes to clear, allowing them to adjust to the darkness which has fallen into an already darkened room. Against the blocked window I can hear the pattering of rain - a sound I once found peaceful, now grating on my nerves as the rhythm prods my head with needles.

Hadn't it been sunny earlier?

It feels as though I've spent the last several hours with a completely blank mind, because suddenly, there are a million thoughts buzzing like bees in my brain.

My visitor knocks again as I struggle to make it to the door, feeling out of it in my current state.

After unbolting several locks, I swing the door open, hanging myself in its frame. For a brief moment, I'm baffled to find nobody standing before me, until I see movement to my left.

My eyes narrow out of habit when they find Shizuo in the hall. He has a half-smoked cigarette between his lips and now leans against the wall.

"You're late," I grumble. "And you can't smoke in the hall."

He turns to look at me, raising a brow at me as if I were speaking a different language - which I easily could do if I so desired. "You said _around_ five, not _at_ five," he explains, finishing his addiction.

Thinking back, I realize he's right and turn back into my apartment without starting an argument. It isn't worth the argument.

The blond follows me in without invitation, though I think it's obvious to us both that he doesn't need one.

"Dark in here..." he notices.

"Yeah..."

A few moments of silence pass between us.

"So are you ever gonna tell me what this is about, Flea?" he asks, clearly irate.

Throwing myself back on the couch, I don't bother with it. Right now, I'm tasked with solving the mystery of how to explain this insanity to him. I won't be surprised if, when I do, the man laughs at me, cancels our deal, and walks out.

"Let me think for a minute," I say, rubbing my tired eyes. "Sit down if you want."

"You're less moody than you were yesterday," he observes, quietly taking a seat at the other end of the couch.

I scoff on cue. And now it hits me. Now I'm beginning to feel like this was a really stupid idea.

"Before or after I dropped on the streets?" the question is a hair short of a sneer.

"Both."

I sigh dramatically, "You really do bring out the worst in me. Ne, Shizu-chan?"

"Then why am I here? Can't you get someone else to do this stupid job for you?"

I glare at him, loving the way he is threatened just enough to shift in his seat. "If there was, why would I waste my time on _you_?"

"I dunno," he shrugs rather nonchalantly. "To piss me off, I guess."

"Why do you assume that everything I do is to provoke you?"

"Cause nine times outta ten it is."

I chuckle snidely, pressing my hand into my forehead. "Oh, Shizu-chan, what are you? Paranoid? In all of these years when have I ever once come to you to start a fight?"

_Once_. That's the answer. And I only did it because I wanted to know what it was like to start it. I took my first blow to the head with a vending machine that day. Knowing that look in his glittery gold eyes, I can see he hasn't forgotten. I also know that the only reason he hasn't hit me yet, in these past three times he has been in close proximity to me, is because he knows I feel like he's hitting me twenty-four-seven.

I guess I should consider myself lucky that Shizuo is a good enough person not to kick someone who's already down.

"What do you need me for?" he asks without answering my own question.

Unable to hold back from that heat any longer, I roll myself off the couch to slowly approach his end.

"Yesterday…" I swallow my wavering pride, treading too deep to turn back now. "W-when you held me... I need you to do it again."

His face is void of proper emotion with one fell swoop. Even I can't read his eyes as I stop inches away from him; mere centimeters separating me from that numbing warmth. For the life of me, I can't figure him out. I can't read his thoughts which, whatever they are, are not giving themselves away.

"What?" he asks dryly, as if I've told him an incredibly bad joke.

For once I find myself actually wishing he would break out into a violent rage, if only to know he felt something - or thought something.

I swallow hard, choking down my dignity. "Please."

And now I'm begging. Will my torment never end?

"Why!"

I hang my head, knowing honesty is my only choice. He's suspicious of me enough as it is. "Because in six months… it was the first time I haven't felt like I was dying…"

A lot of people like to say it feels like they're dying when they're upset or in pain. It just so happens that I'm both, and I'm more than serious. Some nights I go to bed wondering if I'll wake up the next day. Others, I go to bed hoping I won't. Most of the time, I lay awake through the night, wondering if it would just be better to die. At least then I could sleep.

The tension ebbing and flowing between us is seeping into my muscles, aggravating my head as Shizuo keeps his honey-colored irises trained on mine.

"You don't deserve it," he says quietly, sounding guilty as he awkwardly speaks the words. So calm. He almost sounds innocent.

I nod. "I know, but I'm paying you."

"How long?"

I raise a brow, feeling lightheaded by this awkwardness.

"How long do I have to do this?" he elaborates.

His eyebrow twitches delicately as he pins down that rage which he is always so desperate not to unleash.

Snapping my gaze away from his, I stare at the closed blinds which hide me from the world. No. Worse… which hide my humans from me.

"Until your debt is paid off. I won't keep you past that."

"I mean how long right now._ Today_."

My breath hitches in my throat, suppressing my words as I bring my gaze back to his. I don't know the answer, which only gives way to the expanse of discomfort between us.

When I can't figure out how to respond, I pull my gaze away once again, dropping it to the floor. A light throbbing is beginning in the back of my skull. Once again, the pills have failed, but I'm too scared to reach out to the blond. For some reason, I don't want him to judge me. I don't want him to see me weak, even if he already has.

It's stupid. It shouldn't matter.

Oh, but it does…

I'd like to say, "Just until my head clears."

But then I think that it won't be enough. What if his heat leaves me, and like a crumbling barricade it allows the pain back in, like an army infiltrating enemy barriers? Maybe I should just tell him this is all a stupid idea. I could call it off and continue my life like this. Maybe I could just get Shinra to give me some morphine and I'll live out the rest of my life so high on it that I can't even remember my own name, let alone my migraines.

The more I think, the more ready I am to call off this entire thing. Sure, it'll be a huge disappointment to us both, but maybe I've just truly lost my mind to this agony. Insanity begets bad ideas. My genius has been lost.

"Screw it."

A shiver runs up my spine, hitting the oncoming migraine. I stumble back a bit when my vision finally blurs, only to be tugged forward as two hands coil around my forearms. My own heat rushes to my face against my will.

"Screw it," he repeats himself, "It doesn't matter."

Before I have the right mind to protest, I'm pulled into Shizuo, who stays seated on the couch. Clumsily, I collapse against him, my body immediately thrust into the warmth. How anybody can feel so hot like this while it's February and raining baffles me, but I can't care too much.

I feel my face reddening.

From beneath me, Shizuo shifts into a more comfortable position for us both, neither one denying the sheer awkwardness of this situation.

I hate him.

He wants to end me.

We both know we shouldn't be like this. We don't want to be like this. It's embarrassing on top of utterly disturbing. However, a quiet understanding blankets the room in silence as I finally begin to absorb that soothing heat, slowly forgetting any of the sentiments I usually have for the blond.

As if we were made for each other, I sit quiet in his lap with my head on his shoulder, silently denying to myself how afraid I am that at any moment he would find no trouble snapping my neck in his hands. Still, he's strangely comfortable, making it just possible enough for this to be okay by some filthy twist of fate.

It's not like he means anything to me. He's just a temporary pawn. When I'm well again, I'll feed him to the crocodiles, acting as if he has never done a thing for me, even when he is willingly becoming everything I need… if not for his own selfish reasons.

I'm doing my very best to pretend this isn't Heiwajima Shizuo, and I can tell he's doing his best to pretend he isn't here right now, with his arms wrapped around me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Thank you sooooo much for your responses! :3

BTW, I started a new tumblr, if you're interested: anotheralterego . tumblr . com/

Just remove the spaces! Thank youuuu~ Glad you liked the last chapters!

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><p>Locked in silence, I know I don't want to give up this comforting sensation flooding through my body. He's so warm, like the sun actually sunk into his tanned skin. It's relaxing. Like laying in the grass on a mid-spring afternoon, perfectly entwined with nature and a glass of orange juice. Don't ask why it makes me feel like this… it just does. Though, it is possible this sensation could be attributed to the light scent of citrus almost hidden by the smell of smoke on his bartender uniform.<p>

Keeping my eyes closed, I inhale slowly, simply enjoying the break from my aching head. The relief is almost so good, so strong, that I've nearly forgotten that Shizuo is the one giving it to me.

I feel drowsy, almost enough that I could get in twelve hours of sleep if I wanted to. It's tempting, but I deny it a while longer. I'm not ready to give this up.

"I have to pee," he suddenly grumbles.

My eyes open, and I frown. Perfect timing, Shizuo.

"What?"

"I have to pee," he repeats in a low tone, removing his arms from my torso.

"How long has it been?" I wonder.

This feels too soon…

"Two hours."

Already? And by the look in his own eyes he's struggling to believe it himself. Now, he's staring at me as if I had just taken a baseball bat to a puppy. In other words, reality is back, crashing down on the two of us. He's had enough. And he won't put up with anymore for today.

Glancing at the clock on the wall I see that it is already half past seven. Yeah… already.

In an attempt to make this less awkward that it definitely is, I slide off of him, quickly moving back to my previous position at the opposite end of the couch.

"Then I suppose that's enough for today," I announce what I know he's thinking, ignoring the pain that shoots through my chest at the idea of being separated from my precious warmth as it now, ever so slowly, evaporates.

"Yeah…" he mutters, scratching the back of his head.

He stands up, clearly feeling awkward. I can't blame him. Neither of us ever saw this coming, as animosity still runs high between us. I guess we've both come to accept that as long as I'm sick, there's no use in fighting. No thrill.

Truthfully, I'm curious as to what percentage of our two hours was spent contemplating how to kill me or if he should.

"Mind if I use your bathroom?" he asks, refusing to look me in the eye.

I can't help but smirk. It's just like us to make this whole thing seem so stupid when our pride won't let us fight. Then again, it is. We're a pair of enemies, who have been at each other's throats for nearly ten years. And he just asked if he could use my bathroom. Never mind the fact that I was just comfortable in his arms for two hours.

"Down the hall," I instruct him. "First door on the left."

Left alone in silence, I try to enjoy the painlessness while it lasts. In no way do I feel energized by his body heat, but I do feel relaxed. I feel… somewhat refreshed. The way I see it, I shouldn't ask for too much. Even though I'm paying the blond, it's still up to him whether or not he really goes through with this.

I can't control Shizuo. Fact of life since day one. It's that very lack of control that gives way to this mixture of hate and excitement, so I don't try. And now that I'm paying him, I still won't. As he stated, so insistently, I'm not his boss.

If anything, I am a client.

"So that's it then?" he asks, emerging from the hallway.

Coming out of my thoughts, I glance over to him as he slowly makes his way to the door.

Nodding, I answer. "Until next time."

"How do I know when that'll be?"

"I have your number," I answer simply, "I'll call you when your service is needed."

"And if I'm busy…?" he seems apprehensive; yet somewhat hopeful, that this will put a dent in our deal.

I realize he has a life of some sort, be it beating up the next person who pisses him off or smoking his lungs into a charred blackness. Still…

I pick up my phone from the coffee table and select a familiar name. Dialing, I press it against my ear, pleased when the ring does not mess with my head as it so often does. Shizuo is already proving himself useful to me.

"Hello?" a calm, disinterested voice answers after several rings.

I perk up, casting a devious look at Shizuo. "Tanaka Tom?" I say into the mouthpiece, "This is Orihara Izaya."

The brute's employer is stunned, albeit not so much as Shizuo as he steps toward me with a horrified scowl on his face. I realize that I've just pissed him off. Though, the anger is soon suppressed when I relay my situation to the debt collector. He seems understanding enough, especially when I explain the financial benefits this job will have on my enemy.

Shizuo is quick to back down.

"Anyway," I sigh, finishing the phone call with proud ease, "It's as I've said, I won't need him every day, and the likelihood of needing him for more than a few hours is incredibly slim."

"Well…" Tom pauses, thinking about what I've just told him. Not like it matters, though. I know what he'll say.

"_Well_…?" I echo, as if I've just made some sort of high-end business proposal.

"Look, Orihara-san, as long as you stick to your word by paying him, I can't say no. And no offense, I don't like you one bit, but Shizuo is a good friend of mine. If you're really willing to help him out like that, it's his choice. Not mine.."

"My thoughts precisely!" I flash the blond a grin, responding to his boss. "And rest assured that I will be doing this. So if you could stop cutting his paychecks in half, we'll all end up happy."

The slightly older man is still skeptical; yet agreeable all the same.

I end the call with my eyes still glued to the blond, even as I feel my feigned smile vanish. "Problem solved. I'll begin paying you every Friday. How does fifty-thousand yen a week sound to you?"

"It sounds fine," he says, turning towards the door. I'm not at all surprised as he briefly turns around, giving me a swift once-over with those pretty eyes. "But this doesn't change anything between us, Flea. I still hate your fucking guts."

Silently, I chuckle at the comment. "The feeling is mutual," I say, amused.

With that, he leaves, and I disappear into my bedroom for the first full night of sleep I've had in months.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Thank you as usual! It's nice to have something to update, even while I'm in a bit of a dark place with an inability to write. Lol.

I've been up and down so much lately. I think it's my mind's way of telling me to take a break and draw something (which I attempted last night), but I'm totally addicted.

* * *

><p>Shizuo has been here a total of four times so far - every other day to be exact. I've already paid him once.<p>

Using him only for his body heat, the conversation continues to stay rather slim between us. Our negative feelings are still in their proper places - _as they should be_ - refusing to eliminate any of the strangeness begotten by my form pressed against his.

He gets that I don't want him for any other purposes, just as I know he only makes a conscious effort not to kill me for the payment he receives.

So when he's sitting on my couch, with me in a daze as I lean against him, we don't talk. We don't even try to pretend that this is right; nor do we call attention to how wrong it is. Someday it will be over, and when that day comes, none of this will have ever occurred. Both of us will move on with our lives in the same fashion we always have, except - hopefully - he'll aim for my head less often; or rather not at all.

This time, I've actually gone two days without Shizuo. Pleased when I found myself well enough to go for a walk in Shinjuku yesterday afternoon, I decided that humans can be quite medicinal to one another, even if you don't like them… sort of like chamomile tea.

Of course, Shizuo isn't what I would call_ human_, and who _actually_ enjoys taking medicine? Or drinking chamomile?

Nobody.

It's feeling better that we're after.

On the other hand, I'm a presumptuous idiot, impatiently getting ahead of myself more often than the recommended dosage. One might even say that after six months, I'm simply out of practice, which is a fair assumption to bestow.

Feeling good two days in a row is not grounds for ignoring my body's need for rest. But the empowerment of that blond's heat went straight to my head, only numbing it for a short period of time before the migraines decided to extract revenge.

You see… my short walk lead to a job… a job I wasn't necessarily prepared for, making me wonder a myriad of things. Who was I to deny Shiki-san and miss out on five-hundred-thousand yen assignments? And it was so simple! Talk to a few guys, charm and frighten them, extract information, pick up package on the way back. Done.

Nothing difficult.

Decent rate.

Shiki had been proud last night. So very proud. Maybe I let it go to my injured head, just a little, when I agreed to go back to work for him, doing jobs that my own part-time subordinates can't handle. Then again, I hardly ever use them anymore. The whole of situation is becoming a bit desperate and fucked up… like I'm some sort of nobody struggling to make my way to the top, even though I know that it's never been true of me…

I've _always_ been somebody.

I've made damn sure of it.

And this time, I got carried away.

For that, I feel like quite an idiot.

I've had some pretty horrible days since these migraines began, as if the very life of me had been sucked dry from my body. Now, it feels like this yet again, only whoever drained me lit my body on fire. In almost twenty-four years of life, I've never felt like this.

My body doesn't want to leave my bed, not even for those useless pills which mockingly sit on the dresser from across the room. Despite their uselessness, I want them as I force myself to believe that some relief is better than none.

The world surrounding me glows with a familiar aura, maximized tenfold. It burns, attacking me with silent fury. My eyes water, but what's the use in wiping away the tears? For it will not wipe away this agony that shakes my body with its wrath.

What little morning sun has managed to pierce the barriers of curtains and blinds is enough to blind me. Burying my head in my pillows, I hide.

I know what I need.

I need Shizuo's heat. More than anything. More than the past several times he has been here for me. And I would call him in an instant if I did not dread the painful light of my phone's screen, or the shrill ring as I call for him to save me from this hell. Albeit, even then, my sore limbs do not want to move, while the weight of the migraine keeps me pinned to the sheets, dizzy and suffering.

An hour passes before I realize that this is getting worse rather than better. The pressure in my head soon reaches a point of nausea.

I can't wait anymore.

Keeping my face buried in my pillow, I reach a trembling arm out to my cell phone. Blindly picking it up, I hope I have a close enough relationship with this device to navigate it without seeing the screen's details for myself.

With a bit of effort, I hear the dial tone and can only hope it's the correct number.

It rings twice before a familiar voice answers.

"_Hello_~" that usual sing-song tone is shrill like the squeal of brakes on a beaten down car.

"Fuck," I hiss.

"_Izaya... are you okay_?" Shinra asks, lowering his voice into something a little more bearable.

I swallow, attempting to clear my head enough to speak in words other than curses. "Ngh... I... I n-need Shizuo."

"_Whoa. You know he's not here, don't you?_"

"C-call him. Tell him to get over here..."

"_You sound like you're in a lot of pain. Are you_-"

"Thank you, Doctor Obvious. J-just tell him. Now."

Irritated that I've called the wrong person, I hang up on Shinra with the hopes he has the mind to do what I say. Shizuo is the only one who can help, as shitty as it is to admit.

* * *

><p>Roughly an hour later - hell, maybe it has only been twenty minutes, I don't know - I'm still in bed when there's a knock at the door; the sound of which is forceful enough to send an earthquake through my skull.<p>

I know who it is, but I don't know if I have the strength to pull myself up.

Following another set of knocks, my phone rings. Just as blindly as I called Shinra, I manage to answer the call.

"_I'm at your apartment, Flea_," Shizuo grumbles, "_Shinra called me._"

The sound of his voice isn't as bad as Shinra's, yet still harsh enough to make me wince.

"_Oi, Izaya. You hear me_?"

"Ngh... yeah..." I am not surprised by the weakness in my voice as I force the answer.

"_Stop screwing around and come get the fucking door or I'm leaving_," he threateningly commands, clearly irritated before even seeing my face. Then again, Shizuo has never required a visual to hate me.

"N-no..." the throbbing is so loud I can hear it in my head. "I c-can't."

"_Well, unless you want me to break the damn door in to come save your puny ass, you better figure out a way_."

I know he's right. And yet, the very idea of getting up seems impossible, like he's telling me to go to go to space on foot.

"_Your pain is... too much... isn't it_?" his voice suddenly drops to a melancholy, low town.

"G-give me a minute," I breathe, suddenly remembering that Shizuo is not allowed to see me weak.

"_Don't force yourself. I can break in the door_."

"No..." I hiss, carefully lifting myself from my mattress. "I'll be there in a minute."

Said minute is the longest of my life.

My migraine is giving me vertigo. Nauseating vertigo, like a bad night of drinking. Like somebody poisoned the alcohol to play a prank. This only leads to surprise when I make it down the stairs. By the time I reach the front door, I'm falling against it, simply trying to picture myself in those arms that fight off the onslaught of pain.

"Soon," is the word I've repeated to myself for the past five minutes, up until I've unhooked the last latch from my door.

"See?" I give Shizuo a weak smile as I open the door. "Fine."

He scoffs. "You look like shit."

Opening my mouth for a clever retort, whatever insult I was about to throw dissipates as another wave slams down on my head, shutting me up before I can speak.

I crumble instantly, without warning to myself or the blond who has just stepped inside. The world sways, unrestrained by gravity in my broken mind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** It is now approximately 6AM, and I have been up since roughly 10AM yesterday.

HUZZAH! HERE'S AN UPDATE!

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><p>Shizuo kneels beside me.<p>

For a moment, I try to wave him off and say I'm okay. However, we both know that if that were true, I wouldn't have called him. I wouldn't need him at all.

With the palm of my left hand pressed against my forehead and my eyes clamped shut, I use the other to search for balance as I stand. I make the effort too quickly. A shiver runs through me.

Ignoring the blond's offered hand, I use the wall for support, dragging myself into the bathroom. As soon as I'm inside, my body gives in, demanding that I give up. My pride it isn't worth it.

In a matter of moments, I'm clinging to the bowl of the toilet in a crumpled mess, violently emptying my life force in a bitter mixture of bile and the undigested remnants of last night's dinner. When my body is depleted of this, I continue to heave, choking out everything I can. Vomiting only puts me in more pain. Head pounding, stomach in knots, muscles aching, all I can hope is that I die soon.

I want to be put out of my misery once and for all.

"Try to breathe," a soft voice brushes past my ear, scraping over my headache like thorns across flesh.

Grimacing, I can honestly say that one of the worst effects of these migraines is the way even pleasant sounds can become sharp objects stabbing my senses. Because the way Shizuo tells me this, as he traces circles on my back, is so delicate that I nearly believe he cares.

Tch. Right… Get it together, Izaya. Let's not become delusional as well.

Several more minutes pass in which my body is hell-bent on me throwing up my intestines before the power of his touch chases away the dry heaves. Feeling able to break away from the toilet, I fall back against the blond, filling my lungs with deep, ragged breaths to make up for the air my nausea robbed them of.

"Are you alright?" he asks sincerely, passing me a hand towel.

I wipe my mouth and toss the thing to a miscellaneous corner of the bathroom. Closing my eyes, I nod, already succumbing to his body's contagious warmth.

"Does that happen often?"

"The puking?" I say, followed by a small cough that startles the brute. "Yeah. Sometimes."

"Shit…" he whispers. "I'm so sorry…"

Rolling my eyes behind closed lids, I shift into a more comfortable position, giving me more access to his heat. "No use in beating yourself up over it now," I explain, "Just make up for it."

"Does it really count if you're paying me?"

"Would you do it if I wasn't."

There's a short, tense moment of silence before the blond breaks it with a shamed mumble. "No…"

"Ah, well, nobody is perfect. Especially not a monster like you," I say, balancing somewhere between insult and teasing.

He emits a low growl in retort.

"Now let's be quiet, ne?" I add, attempting to focus on nothing but his warmth suffocating my pain.

_"Here?"_

"Why not?"

"We're on the bathroom floor. Don't you want to move somewhere comfortable or something?"

Unable to help myself, as I so often am, I release an amused snicker. Although I'm fairly surprised that Shizuo would make such a remark, he has blown me away with his unpredictability once more. His unforeseen methods, for once, are actually less than irritating as I lean against him.

"What's the point?" I drone with a heavy heart. "My bathroom is clean."

Sort of.

His aid is only ever temporary. Comfort only lasts as long as his heat, and with an upset stomach, I'm unsure of when I'll feel the need to purge again - even if my stomach is dry.

"You'd feel better, Flea," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and I'm an idiot for not realizing it.

Condescendingly.

"Would I?" I choose to argue, wishing I could drape him over me like a blanket so that my whole body could be cocooned in his heat.

"It's gotta be better to be in your bed than the cold floor."

I smirk, distantly wondering what he means by that. "What do you care? You hate me."

"Yeah, but I can't kick your ass while you're sick, so you need to get better."

If I weren't so tired, it's likely that this comment would have me bursting at the seams in mad hysterics. He speaks in truths that have gone unspoken until now. Stating a simple fact as if my mind hadn't raked over it time and time again, even in pain. And maybe that's because I can only wish life could return to its normal pattern of dodging his attacks while I playfully run away, filled to the brim with exhilaration. Adrenaline burning through my system like oil charging a flame.

"In that case, get out. I'll stay sick," I reply, opening my eyes long enough to stare at him with as much deviousness as I can muster in my pathetic state.

"Like hell I'm leaving. I'm gonna fix you."

"What makes you think you can?" I leer.

"Cause I'm the one who broke you."

"What a bold statement to make, Shizu-chan. Accepting responsibility and all! Is it a promise?"

"Maybe."

"And what should I expect in the case that you should fail me?"

"I dunno…" he says, crinkling his eyebrows. "What would you want?"

I shrug, mindlessly pulling his arm over my chest for more heat. "Hm… well, we both know your money is pocket change, and anything I can think of at the moment is nothing you'd be willing to do."

"Like…?"

"Like throwing yourself off of Tokyo Tower Hotel."

Feeling his silent grimace in the way he shudders at my words, I smirk again. But we both know he isn't anything like the people Nakura talks to in the suicide chats. Come to think of it, I doubt he knows Nakura exists. Regardless, something about this idiot - something instinctual about his genetic makeup - makes him impossible to twist. There is no manipulating this one, so I know the only way he's meeting his death in such a clichéd, suicidal manner is if I push him myself.

"Who knows? Maybe you're inhuman genetics will save you. We'll call it an experiment. Even make a documentary out of the ordeal!"

"You're a sick louse," he grumbles, tightening his hold for reasons I cannot comprehend.

Heart slamming desperately against my ribcage, I'm suddenly over-thinking his touch, a touch I cannot get out of. What does he think he's doing?

Why?

And can he feel the pounding of my heart?

Trapped like this, he could crush me in an instant! Before I'd even know it, I could be dead!

Concealing my panic as the grin slides from my face, I close my eyes. Seeking nonchalance in desperate times, I turn away to hide my face.

Telling myself I don't care, since I'm using him as it is, I pretend the only piece of him that is here is his warmth. My anti-venom to his poisonous bite. I can only be pleased with the fact that he has not asked for an explanation or pushed the subject further.

Then again, as long as we're stuck like this, it's never too late for that.

After our banter back and forth, reminding each other that we're only being so civil to obtain something we need, a smooth silence fills the air, keeping up with the same level of tension as in the last several times he has been here.

I clear my head.

Shizuo pretends he's somewhere else.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** WOW GUYYYYS! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR FEEDBACK!

I LOVE IT! :3

This has made my day! Seriously!

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling?"<p>

My guess is that we've been like this for a while, just like before, but with my mind too numb, I can't tell just how long "a while" truly is. I'm beginning to believe these migraines have stolen my sense of time.

"Izaya…?"

"What?" I grumble in a short breath.

"How are you?" he reiterates his former concern - if one could call it that.

Trying not to consider the fleeting pain floating around in my skull for fear of empowering it once again, I make the foolish move of digging my fingers into the protozoan's shirt; clinging to the fabric as hard as my weak hands will grasp it.

It's not Shizuo I don't want to be separated from. It's his body. His heat. My_ cure_.

Though, I'm not so sure he understands that as he jolts in response to this slightly desperate move of mine. For both our sakes, I choose not to respond to his moment of shocked discomfort. I'm surprising myself too. I don't like it.

"I'm not ready for you to leave yet," I grumble, losing control over my mouth.

"I-I'm not," he assures me, shaking off his own surprise that I actually said the words I hope I didn't. "I just don't think that staying on the floor will help you…"

"Ne, Shizu-chan…" taking the sly way out, I don't argue or agree. I change the subject. "What time is it…?"

"Still early… not even ten."

"Ngh… seriously?"

"I'm telling you, Izaya, you should really go back to bed…"

"Nonsense," I play stubborn, shifting a bit for more comfort. "It's barely the start of a new day. There are things to be done."

"And I was woken up three hours ago to a frantic Shinra telling me to get here. And I'm glad I did."

"Huh…? What the hell are you insinuating, Shizu-chan?"

"Nothing," he grumbles, and I can sense his frown reaching up to his eyes; burning holes in the top of my throbbing head. "You just puked your guts out. I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"Tch. As if any part of this is?"

"Quit twisting my words," he shoots, suddenly defensive. "You're really sick."

Irritated by his blasphemous opinion, I pull away from his warmth, though not without reluctance, and stare at him down with scrutinizing eyes that have him shifting uncomfortably before me. I know exactly what he's getting at. That doesn't mean he's right. "Twisting? I'm not twisting anything. I'm stating facts. If you think I have some hidden motive, I'm sorry to let you down. I can only wish it was that easy."

"Then maybe you shouldn't always have hidden motives," he growls back a demanding retort.

A shudder tears down my spine.

"You really are terrible at reading people, Shizu-chan."

"_People_," he huffs, "Not fleas."

"You're just sinking yourself further down into hypocrisy, you know. I bet you sit here wondering how you can kill me fast and easy."

There. I said it.

"W-what?" he gawks.

Leaning against the bathtub, I do my best not to show him that I'm still in desperate need of his heat, and hide my shaking hands in the pocket of my sweatshirt. "Don't act so innocent, Shizu-chan," I snicker, amused by the dumfounded look on his stupid face.

His incredulous gaze drops to the floor. Nervously, I watch him slowly stand up, towering over me with his melancholy eyes shamefully averted.

"That's not true…" he whispers, clenching his fists as if to suffocate the desperate rage building inside of him. "I don't really wanna kill anyone. Not even you."

"Right, and I don't really have migraines that have me hanging over a toilet bowl three times a week," I sneer, purposely testing Shizuo's limits.

"To be honest? I didn't believe it at first," he snorts.

I keep my eyes trained on him. "So I've noticed."

"And why should I? But that's why you have to believe me, Izaya… It's the same thing…"

"Hardly. When have I tried to kill you?"

He shakes his head. "Oh, don't act like you haven't made my life hell since day one, Flea!"

Slowly, I raise my hands in defeat. I never said I was innocent. I just like to play with fire. "Damn. Caught me."

"I'm being completely serious. I might hate your fucking guts, but I don't wanna kill you, and I don't wanna be violent either. Not towards you or the douche bags who piss me off!"

"So…" I push my interrogation forward, "You haven't once thought about snapping my neck while I'm weak and defenseless, ne?"

He brings his eyes back to mine. Somehow, I manage to hide the stun that shoots through me when he looks at me like that. I see more pain than anger. I see somebody who truly does not want to be… this monster…

"No…" he frowns, "I… I know I shouldn't… but I actually feel bad for hurting you like this. I might wanna beat your obnoxious ass, but I've done something to you that isn't just gonna go away."

Sighing, I nod in slight agreement. "It's true, Shizu-chan. My head won't heal like the usual cut or bruise you leave me with…"

His shoulders slump. "I lied before… I'd do this for you even if you weren't paying me…"

"Why?"

"Because…" he grits his teeth, "I just would."

"So if you don't want to kill anyone, explain why you try so hard to end me?"

Shizuo closes the toilet's lid and takes a seat, carefully mulling over our situation in his head. With his elbows on his knees, he hunches over, running his hands through his blond hair to alleviate his stress. I can tell he's in need of a nicotine fix, but I say nothing about it. Neither of us make cigarettes an issue.

"When it comes to you I just can't control myself… and now that you're hurt, even though you're still annoying as hell, I dunno… it makes sense in my head, but the words don't sound right."

"I understand."

"How…? You don't-"

"Shut up. I just do."

"I really am sorry for what I've done," he apologizes.

I don't tell him that his words mean nothing to me. I don't say that I'll forgive him when his warmth eliminates my pain for good. To speak the words… let's just say I may as well give up entirely and accept that I might be stuck like this. Useless and in pain until my last breath.

With a forced effort, I push myself up from the floor, swaying dizzily as the blood in my head rushes out; into the rest of my limbs. Along with it, whatever remains of Shizuo's heat disappears too, giving me a cold, lonely feeling. I keep my arms tightly folded against my chest.

"You work today, ne?" I wonder.

"Yeah…"

"You should go then. I've kept you far too long."

He stares at me curiously. "You're still hurting…"

"I'll manage. You've helped me enough for now," I try to assure him, though I can see he doesn't believe it. He'd like to, but he doesn't. So I add, "I have some things I need to think about. It's best that I be alone for now."

"Can I come back?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Author Anon** is very tired and trying to write a bit of an outline for a story. Meh. Here's your update today! I apologize for it's lateness.

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><p>This sudden question startles me. I wonder if he could see the blood jump in my veins as the words roll off his tongue. "You still work for me, idiot," I attempt to be smooth with my words by keeping them cold and calloused, but hell. I can hear the shaking in my voice.<p>

If he notices, he ignores it, quickly jumping to explain his rationale. "I know… I mean when I get off work…"

"Why in the world would you want to do that?" I scoff and mockingly as I can, hoping to change his mind.

Shrugging, he answers with, "I dunno."

Why am I not affecting him like I usually do?

"I am not sure if that's the best idea," I shake my head, barely able to understand what I'm saying, or why I'm saying it. "I'll call you when you're needed. That's our deal."

Disappointed, he nods his understanding, realizing that I'm not likely to budge from my opinion. He knows I don't have to let him be here. He knows that he's here by my accord, and that he has to leave by it just the same.

I'm not his boss.

But Shizuo is still my employee.

Though, I can't say I understand why he would want to be here. It isn't as if I'd pay him more for something voluntary. Then again, I'm also struggling to understand why he would do this without proper payment. I can't figure out why he'd come back by his own free will… To come back to somebody he hates, guilty or not, doesn't feel right by any means.

Or maybe it's possible that he just felt the same terrifying wave of change that has just pulled me under rapid currents.

None of this makes any sense to me. At all.

It feels like drowning.

"Are you sure you're okay for me to leave?" he checks one last time as I show him to the door.

"I'm fine," I insist with an edge, practically shoving him out of my apartment. "I'm just going to lie down for a while. I'll see you next time."

"Good," he nods once, "You should do that."

A formal goodbye goes unsaid as he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, grabbing one between his lips. I grimace at myself for focusing on the image. I won't try to describe the feelings rushing through me at the sight. It's all so fucking wrong. It makes me sick to even consider it a possibility.

Once the door is locked, I lean against it, pressing my forehead against the strong, cool wood.

There's a new pain weighing me down now: stress. The constant rush of uncertainty precariously balanced on my mind; toying with my fragile brain.

I am afraid. Of what, I do not yet know. And a large part of me doesn't want to find out.

"This doesn't change anything, Shizu-chan," I say to the figure that is no longer in my presence; yet just as irritating as if he were. "I don't know what game you're trying to play, but I still hate you."

It's just as well that I hate the tiny voice in the back of my mind that says I'm lying.

What has he done to me?

* * *

><p>For three and a half days, I don't call Shizuo. I don't see him. I don't feel him.<p>

And yet he refuses to leave my mind as I fought my needs, denying his heat, to show that I could manage without him.

Sometimes, it's a terrible thing to be so stubborn, even against one's self. Until now, I simply wanted to believe I was in it to make a point, even going as far as to pay the blond bastard despite his lacking services. Instead, he was giving me plenty to think about… plenty to try to remove from my thoughts which are hazy and jumbled in my state.

Yesterday was another round of hell. I wanted to call him. My entire body was screaming at me to summon him, only to be shot down by the selfish desperation of my dwindling pride.

I foolishly allowed the migraine win for my dignity.

However…

Currently, I'm not so sure of what I am doing.

My physical agony is reasonably lesser than it has been over the past few days. For how long, who is to say? Still, I remain confident that I don't need him right now. I'm doing fine.

So why can't I stop thinking about him? Why do I keep envisioning those golden eyes each time I close mine? It's as if the image is furiously burned there as a reminder of something I haven't even figured out yet. And why did he look that way?

Why did Shizuo stare at me as if his world had been shattered?

I hate him.

I hate him, and he hates me. That is the natural order.

That is what keeps the earth spinning on its fucking axis.

So why…?

I know I'm being a little crazy here. On top of that, I'm running low on pills after having overdosed on a safe number of them these past few days.

Whatever helps me sleep at night, ne?

Ugh… I…

Not knowing what else to do drives me up the fucking wall, because at the exact same time, I'm brushed with the strong desire to actually do what I dread.

Picking up my cell phone from my nightstand, I try not to let the backlight get the better of me while I scroll through to his name, just thankful he hasn't called.

Today is just a phone call. A conversation. Nothing more with the possibility of being less; meaning he certainly does not need to come over. My useless, electric blanket can subtly take his place without retort.

This decided, what's the point in calling him at all? What am I trying to do exactly?

Well, it doesn't matter. He isn't coming over.

"H-hello?" a deep voice suddenly captures the attention that he has, quite honestly, held for the past several days.

"Shizu-chan… hi…" I say all too shyly, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

"What the hell, Izaya?" he suddenly sounds much more awake. "Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?"

"Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds until two in the morning," I answer, staring at the digital clock beside by bed.

"God..." he groans, unsatisfied with obviously having been woken. "Seriously, Flea…?"

Believe it or not, the decision to call him like this - albeit in the middle of the night - is not so impulsive as it may appear. I've been juggling the thought since he left, mostly hesitating based upon an uncertainty of just what to say to the brute after such an awkward departure. It also seems a bit unprofessional on my end if an employee doesn't have any clue as to when he will be needed next.

So it might seem random, and I may be fighting to hide how flustered I truly am, but I've thought almost endlessly about this call.

I still don't know what to say.


	14. Chapter 14

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh Hhaaaiiiiii. Well, I don't have much to say, other than thank you ask always. You guys are seriously amazing me with your comments and they mean so much more to me than I can really convey, other than updating my story for you!

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><p>"Uh... Look... Let me get dressed. I'll be there in an hour," Shizuo reluctantly sighs.<p>

I can just imagine the look on his stupid face. Sleepy-eyed with a clenched jaw, exasperated, but understanding of our peculiar situation.

Only, this time, he's wrong. This isn't what he thinks.

"Actually... that isn't why I called," I quickly admit. "Perhaps I have another purpose, ne?"

A brief moment of silence is broken by a click and an exhale on the other end. He's getting his nicotine fix; probably just trying to keep his anger down.

"So... you_ don't_ need me to come over?" he checks warily, suspicions rising.

"No."

"Then why the hell are you calling me, Flea?"

Curiosity has laces his ire - which I already take responsibility for igniting.

"I couldn't sleep," the words are easier to confess than I had originally anticipated, taking a huge weight off my chest already. "I can't stop thinking."

"About...?"

"Why do you hate me so much, Shizu-chan?"

"WHAT? What the hell kinda question is that?" he shoots, losing his cool to incredulity. "You damn well know why! Why do you hate me?"

I must say... I am somewhat proud of myself for predicting the unpredictable. This is exactly the reaction I expected, though I do not know if it's the one I was hoping for, especially coming from such a wildly unpredictable creature. Still, to be fair, I answer.

"You know why as well. It's because you're simply not human enough to love. Too flawed to be valued. A _thorn_ in my side."

"Don't act like I chose this life for myself," he warns me. "I hate you for making it worse than it already is."

"Ah. Maybe that's the reason now, sure," I agree, something unfamiliar hitting me as that last sentence reverberates in my skull. "But have you ever wondered what got us started? We have these stupid reasons. Reasons that came into creation when we were fifteen. Now that we've reached adulthood, those reasons have become nothing more than immature excuses."

"What are you getting at?"

"I hate you. Don't get me wrong. I _really_ despise you," I am sure to rub it in as hard as I can. "But why? Ne? I feel like there's something else there. Something that lies deeper beneath the surface. I want to know what it is. Or maybe my head is more screwed up than usual..."

"How bad is your pain right now?"

"Intermediate."

"How many pills have you taken tonight?"

"Seven. Possibly eight," I say, trying to count them in my memory. "What does this have to do with hating each other?"

"Izaya, are you fucking _high_?"

His words startle me. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I glare at it for a moment, wishing he could see how he has offended me. "What makes you think that?"

"You're asking me some pretty weird, philosophical shit."

"Oh, that's a big word for you! Has Shizu-chan ever even been high?"

"No," he says dryly, "But I've been in and out of jail enough times to know what it looks like - thanks to you."

"Being heavily medicated for chronic pain doesn't make me a junky, idiot," I snap.

"I never called you a junky, Izaya. You don't think eight painkillers might be a few too many?"

"I am not high. And I mean every word I've said to you thus far."

"You're putting words in my mouth again," he grumbles.

"Listen," I sigh, giving up on a conversation that began with no sure direction, let alone an organized topic, "It's just a thought that's been bugging me. You seemed like the most logical person to discuss it with, even if your own sense of reasoning sucks and talking to you is comparable to speaking with a gorilla."

He grunts, solidifying my point. "Thanks."

"Any time," I scoff.

"So if you're done rambling, I'm gonna go back to sleep."

"Yeah... sorry to wake you..."

"I don't know what you were expecting at two in the morning."

I hang up without waiting for his goodbye, still feeling incredibly unsatisfied by our conversation. It is as if all of the thoughts I had vanished, leaving nothing but a stain on my mind. Whatever the source is has faded, while the feelings equipped remain.

If anything, I feel like I have to put this ten-thousand piece puzzle together all over again. With a time limit.

Nothing makes sense. Nothing - not even this headache - feels like it should.

I know I hate Heiwajima Shizuo. But my reasons aren't good enough.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here?" I glare at Namie from my place on the couch as she hangs her coat and purse on the rack by the door.<p>

"I came to check on you," she says. "As much as I enjoy being paid for the simple fact of being your employee, there will soon come a day when you're out of the proper funds."

"Ah, then I'll stop paying you," I easily smirk.

"Very funny," she drones. "When do you expect to be well enough to at least pick up on managing your business?"

"Did you have to lie?" I shamelessly change the topic.

"Lie?" my assistant echoes.

Narrowing my gaze, I enjoy the way she shivers as my eyes meet hers. "You're not here to check on me. You're here about money."

"You_ are_ my money. I'm just wondering when I'll have to join Kishitani in underground practices at the rate my current employer is going - which is nothing but downhill, mind you."

"Something tells me Shinra would be opposed to the competition," I chuckle with a snide inflection simply meant to bother her. I'm pleased to find it effective.

"I'm sure I could clean a bullet wound better than he can," she says with artificial pride.

"Stop worrying so much, Namie-chan," I advise her, "You're one of two who I haven't let go. And by the time this is over, you're likely to be the only one."

Her interest is immediately sparked. "Who's the other?"

"Don't worry about it," I say.

Knowing that I'm not going to tell her that I've hired Shizuo, she drops the matter, gracefully moving into the next. "Hmm... so where are you accumulating the funds to pay for us?"

"Don't make yourself sound like some kind of prostitute," I tease, earning a sharp glare on her end. "I've agreed to keep working for the Awakusu-Kai when I can."

"Is Shiki-san still paying you well?"

"He's paying for the best."

"And he's aware of your health?"

Sitting up, I stare at her questioningly, wondering why she needs to know something like this. I can only imagine that her true concern is for money when it isn't focused on that creepy brother of hers.

"I'm missing the part where that's an important detail to our business relationship," I roll my eyes. "My frequent clients know that I've been away from work for medical issues. They don't need to know more than that. In the meantime, I'm doing enough small jobs to keep you paid and out of the way."

Ha!

She's so pretty when she's offended. Nevertheless, behind those chocolaty eyes, there's some sort of plot. This woman is just crazy enough for every move she makes to have an individual hidden motive.

And Shizuo thinks I'm the suspicious one.

"Now, if you're satisfied, you can leave," I wave toward the door, wishing to be alone with the slight pain that is teasing with my head.

It hasn't erupted into a migraine yet, but I don't want Namie to be here when it does. She always makes them so much worse.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** Well, today has been long and tedious, and I sort of want to fight somebody, but my arms hurt. So I'm going to give you this update instead.

You guys are great! This story now has over 10,000 hits. That is absolutely incredible! Thank you!

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><p>Later, long after Namie's departure, I call Shizuo, accepting that sometimes the agony is just too much. Sometimes, It's better to give in. He does not hesitate to come over.<p>

"You haven't needed me in a week," he says with slow caution. "Have you been okay...?"

"I've been working a little," I tell him quietly, thinking about Shiki-san.

What minor tasks I've done - all of them over the phone or internet - have been nothing short of relieving, despite the cravings for more. My work has always kept me happy, making it more painful to be away from it for so long. Interaction is rare; often suffocated by pain.

I miss the streets. Staying indoors so often is like going through a bad withdrawal; not to mention very lonely. Lately, I feel like a neglected rat in a cage.

"That's good."

"Ne?"

"Good that you've been able to work, I mean."

"Ah… yes. A little."

Feeling sleepy, I rearrange myself, resting my sore head on Shizuo's lap. He makes no retort in my doing so, allowing me to absorb him in whatever way I deem necessary.

From where I lay, I try my best to keep my eyes focused on the city lights outside of my window, as they are the closest things I've seen to stars in what is probably weeks. For now, I'm just thankful that I can have the blinds open without wanting to rip out my eyeballs.

"Sneaky shit or what?" the blond asks, looking for a conversation.

I'm not sure why he wants to talk to me. Maybe it's because it gets boring sitting through a few hours of life in silence. Whatever the reasoning, I choose to entertain him a little.

"Nothing you would enjoy, or deem appropriate."

"Like…?"

For reasons I cannot interpret, I smile slightly. "Why are you so curious, Shizu-chan?"

"I don't know… I… I've just been thinking about what you said to me the other night."

"About why we hate each other?"

"Yeah."

"And now you're trying to answer the question, is that right?"

"Something like that…"

A cynical snicker escapes me, soon to be cut off as I feel his body tense. Can I really blame him? Shizuo is making much more of an effort than I am - than I ever will. "Shiki-san, my employer, is an executive for Awakusu-Kai. He's yakuza."

"Yeah. Figured you were into that shit."

"Heh. They pay exuberant amounts of money for such little things, even for information that a brute like you would know. Shiki-san is different."

"All yakuza are exactly the same," Shizuo says, clenching his teeth.

"How so?"

"Violent."

My smile widens. "You' be surprised. While they do have their fair share of violence, as well as murder, that's not the case. Shiki-san is one of the must nonviolent humans I've ever met. He's more into smuggling exotic goods."

"Like drugs?"

"Pfft," I scoff, rolling my eyes, "If you must know the answer to that, no. It's useless to explain the underworld to somebody who has never really seen it."

"Oh…" he relaxes a bit. "Is it scary…?"

Breathing in deeply, I relax with him. "No. It's exhilarating."

"You're a confusing flea, you know that?"

"No more than you are a raging protozoan, but then, I suppose it's simply a matter of opinion, ne?"

"Sure," Shizuo sighs.

My eyes drape closed against my will. Heavy lids are in control of this situation now, as I'm beginning to fully relax against him. It has taken a while, but the pain is finally beginning to fade out thanks to this man I despise for reasons unknown.

And it's that same hate that has my breath caught in my throat, when his hand finds its way to my hair. I swallow my nervousness, opening my eyes to be on my highest alert, wondering if this is the part where he crushes my skull. I am all the more surprised when, rather than ending me, he begins to gently rake his fingers across the side of my head.

The sensation is new; yet so familiar. Something akin to my mother's loving touch when I was a child. It sends the most comfortable sparks through my body; placing a sensation in my chest that hasn't been dormant for at least fifteen years.

I have to wonder…

How is it that I can enjoy something from someone I hate so much?

* * *

><p>"You didn't have to do that," I tell Shizuo three hours later as I sit up.<p>

I had been half asleep for the past two. Then the brute's phone rang, startling out of my trance.

Kasuka had called, undoubtedly asking a myriad of yes-or-no questions as Shizuo answered them, one after the other, almost robotically; only breaking the pattern towards the end when he explained to the young actor that everything was fine and that he was excited to see him next week.

For those five minutes, Shizuo's ministrations through my hair were put on pause, only to be picked back up as soon as he ended his call.

I was half tempted to tell him that he wasn't allowed to take personal calls while working before remembering how insistent he is that I am not his boss.

I've spent the next fifty-five minutes since then allowing the continuation of his fingers' work, all the while wondering what in the world he's doing to me; making me feel sentiments which I have buried for a reason, and others that I do not know how to describe.

Because affection is only a nuisance to be on the receiving end of. A roadblock preventing the equal share of love for my humans. My pawns.

"Do what?" he asks, legitimately clueless.

He never over thinks anything, does he?

I sigh. "Touch me like that. It was unnecessary."

He smirks as realization dawns on him, clandestine and proud. "But it helped, didn't it?"

Narrowing my eyes, I look him up and down, hoping that he knows I think he's dirt on the bottom of my shoe. "So what if it did?"

Standing up, he heads toward the door before responding. After sliding his shoes on, he turns back to look at me. "Kasuka used to get sick a lot when we were kids. I figured if it worked on him, it'd work on you."

"I'm not a little boy, Shizu-chan," I sneer, crossing my arms.

"No, you're a pain in the ass, Izaya."

"Likewise."

He checks his cell phone.

"Well, it's late now…" Shizuo says without keeping up the argument. He already has a cigarette between his fingers, ready to light as soon as he's out the door. "I'm off work tomorrow if you need me."

Staring at him for a long while, I do everything in my power to read him. Those golden eyes flash as if speaking to me in a language I don't know. Sending me a message that should be obvious if we were not such opposites. I want to know exactly what he's thinking and pick it apart, just as I do with everybody else. I want to know what enticed him to touch me like that and why my bite gets to him less and less each time he's here.

I want to know everything I can about Heiwajima Shizuo, because it has come to my attention that I do not know nearly enough.

"Yeah… Okay…" I say after a while, noticing that I have him curious.

"You okay, Flea?" he asks. "I can stay if you need me."

There's that question again…

"Uhm… yeah. I'm fine. You can go."

"Are you sure?" he presses, sensing that something is indeed wrong, but so far away from understanding what it is.

"Yes, Shizu-chan," I insist, riddled by a sense of familiarity in his prodding.

Tentative, it's obvious that he isn't buying it at all. He doesn't believe my excuses. He does not know my sentiments. They shouldn't mean a thing to him… yet, he never leaves without asking.

"Goodnight, then… I'll see you soon?"

I turn away before he is fully out the door. "Yes. Until next time…"

In a matter of seconds he is gone, leaving me alone once more. And though I am no longer in pain, I can't help this unsettled feeling in my chest. Irritating as it is, there is no pain. All I know is that I don't want it.

I've been ill with these migraines for way too long, and I hate that his medicinal purposes have side-effects that I cannot comprehend.

Even when Shizuo is standing right in front of me, there's something entirely enigmatic about him. The feelings I get when he's close to me are almost unreal. And when he's touching me? I don't know if it was helpful, or sending me further into the depths of insanity.

This is torture.

I feel like some sort of addict.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** You guys are too good to me. Seriously! :3

Ah, just a reminder, most of my stories are for the durarara kinkmeme, where I post anonymously.

But I also have a tumblr where I post about them every once in a while too.

This is my tumblr: http:/anotheralterego . tumblr . com/

Just remove the spacing. :D

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><p>I don't need him today.<p>

Last night, I had him for more than five hours.

Today, there is no sign of pain whatsoever, giving me a much needed break away from choking down pills and dreading opening my eyes. Today, my blinds are open, and I can see the world beyond my window without affliction. Today is good.

Today, I should be out on the streets, living life by my rules. Having fun.

So what the hell am I doing right now as I stare out the window with my phone pressed to my ear?

What kind of fool am I?

"H-hello…? Shit!" he answers with a growl that I can tell is not my doing.

"Everything alright, Shizu-chan?" I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I hear another string of curses before he resets his attention on me.

"Huh…? Oh. Sorry - yeah. Just dropped some eggs…"

"Eggs…? Do you… cook?" I wonder, allowing genuine curiosity to get the better of me.

Could we be so similar?

"Pfft," he scoffs, "Well… I can do breakfast. And rice and- Shit."

"_Shit_?" I echo with a smirk.

"Shut up. You need me to come over?"

Of course not.

In this severely rare moment, I can't help but laugh, not only at his words but at the entire prospect of the situation. He's speaking to me so casually, as if we're not enemies at all, but rather new acquaintances, unaware of the other's flaws.

Quite honestly, if I weren't so amused, this would terrify me.

"Would you mind?" I ask with caution, wondering if he'll catch me in this lie.

"Uh… no. Give me a little while. I have to put groceries away."

"You mean you can afford them?" I snicker, testing him.

"I can now… thanks to you."

The words feel like a punch in the chest. When I cannot come up with a proper response, I bring the conversation to a close. "Ah… well… do what you must."

"How are you feeling?" he asks instead of letting me go.

I wonder if he even realizes he's asking me this. Hearing it so often is like listening to the same annoying song over and over again with nothing else to switch it to. It's like that really annoying Lady Gaga song that plays over and over on the radio. It makes you sick to your stomach to hear it, and even when it's gone it doesn't leave your head.

Of course, if there's one thing in this world I detest more than Heiwajima Shizuo, it's women dressed as meat.

The point I'm trying to make here is that he always asks me if I'm okay. He genuinely wants to know how I'm feeling, and puts equal effort into fixing it however he can. Whether he hates me or not, Shizuo is determined to be my cure.

Feeling suddenly daring, I test the limits further, eager to know just how much it will take for him to draw the undeniable line. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, a small voice is screaming at me to knock it off; warning me that this is all too risky. Had I any intention to listen, maybe it would be just a little bit louder.

"Actually, I feel fine."

"Y-you what, Flea…?" he almost sounds like he's choking.

"I feel fine."

"Then why do you need me to come over…?" he asks with a suspicious inflection in his strong voice.

"Ne… You offered, Shizu-chan. The choice is yours."

"Are you… _asking_ me if I _want_ to come over?"

The way he attempts to piece this all together makes me smile. He's so fucking confused. But to me, it feels like a small victory. Some sort of win to make up for a small percentage of all of this madness flitting back and forth between us.

"I'm saying you have a choice. I want your heat, Shizu-chan. However, if you have other plans on your day off, then by all means, say no."

A long silence passes between us. I can hear Shizuo shuffling around on the other end, giving me no doubt that he has gotten a start on putting his groceries away while he contemplates his next move. He's being careful. I don't blame him.

"Actually… I was sort of waiting for your call…"

* * *

><p>Roughly two hours later, I'm back in Shizuo's lap with his fingers in my hair. While he watches nature a documentary on television, I keep my eyes closed, absorbing him with the sheer joy that I can.<p>

I'm beginning to realize that if there's anything I'm truly addicted to, it's this.

I haven't felt this good thus far. And even though it seems a little fucked up that I would have him come over like this, I can't say I regret it. Screw the natural order. I want this. I want to be able to live my life in such a way that I don't need his warmth as a cure, but as a -

"Hey… Flea…?" his voice quietly cracks the silence between us, interrupting my thoughts.

"Ne…?" I respond slowly, thankful that he hasn't stopped his ministrations.

"Are you awake?"

"I'm responding."

"Heh… right…"

Rolling onto my back, I momentarily break the touch, thinking it's over until his hand comes back down, and his fingers begin working their way through my bangs. With half-lidded eyes, I look at him staring at me, immediately noticing how calm and content he appears. As if the world is as it should be.

Is it? I really don't know. Probably not at the rate we're going.

"Is something wrong, Shizu-chan?" I ask, trying to translate the look in his eyes.

"Uhm… no…" his eyebrows crinkle, "I was just wondering…"

"Yes…?"

"Y-you're not hungry, are you?"

For some stupid reason, I smile nervously. "Famished, actually…"

He averts his eyes from mine as a soft pink hue adds an innocent glow to his cheeks. "You wanna go get something to eat?"

"What? Like the two of us?"

The rosy coloration deepens, making me insanely curious. "Well… I… uh… I…" he stutters, failing to come off as calm as I can see he'd like to.

Who would have known that a raging brute like Heiwajima Shizuo had it in him to get flustered asking such a trivial question. It isn't as if the man is on one knee, asking for my hand in marriage. Now that'd be something else altogether. Something that is never going to happen.

Standing up, I smooth out my shirt and jeans before turning off the television. "Come on," I tell him, "There are a few decent places around here."

Shizuo stays seated on the couch, staring at me with wide honey eyes as I fetch my cell phone and coat. When I raise a questioning brow his way, the blond shifts nervously in his seat. Hesitating.

"What are you waiting for, Shizu-chan?" I ask, "Let's go."

"You…"

"You're worried about somebody seeing us together and thinking it's weird, ne?" I guess.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he nods silently.

"I'm hungry, Shizu-chan," I tell him honestly, "I don't really care what anyone thinks. Even if I did, this is Shinjuku. Not Ikebukuro. So unless you plan on murdering me once outside the confines of my loft, I really have nothing to worry about. However, if you'd rather stay here, I will happily go without you."

Keeping my eyes locked on him, I wonder if this is a terrible idea. Nothing about it feels right. Then again, nothing feels wrong either.

Would I care even if we were in Ikebukuro? Or am I simply so lost in his radiant heat that none if it matters, no matter what world we've been cursed to live in?

"No…" he shakes his head in frustration. "I'm coming."

"Are you sure, Shizu-chan? Nobody is forcing you."

"I said I'm coming!" he growls, following me out the door, "Wouldn't have asked if I weren't hungry too…"

"Oh, so this is a matter of selfishness," I slyly tease.

"No!" he insists, still a meter or so behind me as I make my way down the stairs. "Why do you always do that, Flea?"

"Do what?" I grin.

"Make it sound like I'm saying things that I'm not really saying."

And then I laugh. "Have you ever considered that maybe it's the way you say them?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** I realized just where we were in this story, and now I'm eager to keep updating. Lol.

Thank you all, as always!

* * *

><p>Long after I'm done picking on the brute, Shizuo is still pouting as he follows me through the streets of Shinjuku. Without pain to stand in my way, I'm feeling a bit playful - adventurous - as I skip ahead every now and then, wondering how easy it would be to lose him; knowing just how amusing it would be to ditch him in the middle of this city. I can already picture the angry scowl on his face, long after I've returned to my loft.<p>

But for some reason, I choose not to. Instead, I stop and wait when I feel like I've gotten too far.

"Come on, Shizu-chan. Use those long legs to keep up."

"Maybe I would if you weren't bouncing around like a psychopath," he grumbles, following it up with a few minor curses.

"I'm trying to keep my blood flowing," I explain, walking backwards to face him while we carry out this conversation, "It's cold out here. I need to stay warm."

Shizuo looks me up and down. "How are you even cold, Flea? That jacket is huge. What's with you and fur, anyway?"

"I don't know. Call it an affinity," I shrug, pulling the soft, fur-lined hood over my head, "How do you manage to wear the same stupid bartender outfit every day, no matter the time of year? Including your day off?"

"It isn't stupid," he snaps. "And I don't wear the same outfit every day, either."

"No?"

"No, you wiseass. I have different styles. Different colors too."

"They all look the same to me."

"Shut up. You're colorblind."

Amongst all the madness we've been through over the past several weeks, it's nice to feel some semblance of normalcy when his tone becomes a little threatening. It makes me hope that maybe the world isn't turning inside out after all. The strange interaction between us has simply been the result of staying indoors with migraines for much too long.

"Where are we even going?" he asks grumpily, puffing on a freshly lit cigarette.

"Hm. What sounds good?"

"_Food_," he states dryly, making sure I know he's upset with me.

"Well, yes. Generally, when a person is hungry, food is what they eat. Then again, Shizu-chan isn't exactly a person, is he?"

He rolls his eyes behind periwinkle shades, noticing that I'm more snarky than usual without questioning why. But if there has to be a reason - if Shizuo were to ask - well… I don't know if I'd answer him truthfully.

Why should I tell him that I don't like being so comfortable with him? What reason do I have to explain to the blond that the longer I'm with him, the stronger unfamiliar feelings become? Being out on these streets makes it far less terrifying, putting us at a safe distance before I forget that he is my enemy through and through.

Hiring him for a job that only he can do does not change anything. I think we both need to be reminded of that.

"There's a place just another street down," I tell him, after another of our usual long silences passes between us. "Just a hole in the wall, really. Quaint, but quiet."

"Oh…?"

"Do you like yakitori, Shizu-chan?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"I don't. Not unless it's from this place."

"You a picky eater or something?" he asks.

I slow my pace until we're walking side by side, deciding not to get ahead of him anymore if we're going to continue a conversation.

So far, Shizuo hasn't asked me anything too overtly personal; yet it isn't his questions that bother me. It's the way I answer them without a second thought, telling him everything he wants to know before I can tell myself to lie, if not ignore the inquiries altogether.

Or have I been on my own for so long that I'm desperate for anything that anyone - even Shizuo - will give me?

Ignoring the question, I lead my enemy into the quiet restaurant. We take the table in the back, far away from an older couple enjoying their meal.

* * *

><p>We had eaten in silence, undoubtedly making each other uncomfortable as we traded mixed messages through short glances, looking away less than a second after our eyes would meet.<p>

I've never considered Shizuo much of a thinker, just an idiot who always acts without a plan. However, as he pretended to concentrate on his yakitori, while I picked at my ootoro, it was obvious that the blond had a lot weighing on his simple mind.

Even afterwards, hardly a word was spoken as we made our way back to my apartment.

"How's your head?" he wonders now, approaching the door with me.

"It's okay," I half smile. "I'm a just little tired…"

"Yeah. I can tell," he nods, "Take it easy. Not sure all that running was good for you."

"It wasn't that much…" I scoff, unlocking the door.

"You're not exactly in good shape, Izaya," he tells me.

Frowning, I decide that it's a bit of a disheartening thing to hear. I know my condition isn't good, but is it that bad… that obvious? Come to think of it… I suppose I have lost weight… throwing up so frequently, eating less, laying around all day. By now, I'm sure the majority of my muscle mass has disintegrated into nothing more than scraps of what it used to be.

Everything about me is weak. My mind… my body… my spirit...

"Do you think my life will ever go back to the way it used to be?" I ask, the words hurting more to say aloud than to keep to myself.

Shizuo frowns too, staring at his shoes. "I hope so…"

"Why…? Doesn't it make your life easier to know I'm so pathetic and useless…?"

"Easier? I guess so… but definitely less interesting."

"Oh, really?" I muse, "Elaborate on this?"

A nervous chuckle sneaks out of him as he rubs the back of his neck. "I dunno… 'Bukuro can be a bit lonely when you're not there to fuck it up. Feels… quiet."

"I really make that much of an impact, ne?" I say with a sense of pride.

He nods. "Never really realized it until you stopped showing up."

"Heh… Glad to know someone misses me."

"Miss you? I put up with you more than anybody else!" he reminds me. "While everyone else gets to be free of your shit, I have to work for you now."

"At least I'm paying you well. Even if it is all your fault."

Shizuo clenches his jaw. "You provoked me."

Part of me wants to laugh for the way we're still stuck on these excuses. The other part sits on the sidelines, wishing we'd come up with something knew - wishing the real reason for our animosity in the beginning would come forth, telling us why we're like this to begin with.

I know that there are a lot of people in this world who hate me. In fact, I won't even deny that they have good reason to. Their feelings never bothered me, and I never try to force them to love me.

So why do I find it so damn frustrating that Shizuo hates me the way he does, even if it's true that I feel the same?

"Anyway… you should get some rest."

"You're not coming in?"

He shakes his head. "I don't think so."

"Suit yourself…"

Slowly, he turns to leave, hesitating for a minute as he looks back at me. That calm that I've only ever experienced with Shizuo fills the air once again.

A strong feeling in my chest tells me to wait before I shut the door.

"Izaya…?" he says, taking several steps back until he is right in front of me again; mere inches separating our bodies so that I can feel his unnatural warmth without even touching him.

"Hm… Maybe…"

"What…?"

I sigh. "Maybe Shizu-chan isn't as monstrous as he appears to be."

Said monster's breath audibly hitches in his throat as he stares at me with gaping gold eyes.

For a short moment, the world stops on its axis, and I become lost to his hot breath ghosting over my skin before silky lips brush over my cheek.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** WOW. You guys are incredible. Holy shit, I'm pretty amazed by all the feedback I've received today. I really can't wrap my mind around it, but I'm SO grateful. Thank yo so much!

Does anyone here hate their job (if you have one)? I love my job, but I'm not doing so well with it these days. I keep messing up with the STUPIDEST stuff. I have to figure out how to improve ASAP. I'm scared. I don't want to be fired. ):

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><p>Shizuo backs away just as quickly as he kisses me. By now, his eyes are so comically wide, I wonder if he'll ever be able to close them again. Yet, I don't comment, finding myself equally stunned as his back hit's the wall in the hallway with a decent thud.<p>

Bringing my hand up to cover the tingling patch he left on my cheek, I watch him use both of his own hands to cover his mouth. His breathing is panicked - rigid as he contemplates the severity of his actions. Actions that I cannot even process quite yet.

Mixed feelings swirl within me like a furious tornado, tearing up everything I know about personal sentiments; twisting them in its wrath. I do nothing, feeling as if the world has just fallen out from under my feet. Nevertheless, of all the many things I feel at this particular moment in time, regret and anger are virtually nonexistent, making it impossible for me to hate what Shizuo has just done.

Something about it…

"I'm so sorry, Izaya," he breathes, voice muffled as his hand still covers his mouth.

I swallow hard, wondering if I should find it strange that I'm still breathing, or that I haven't woken up yet.

"Shizuo…?" his name spills from my lips against my will.

"I'm sorry."

Without another word, he bolts from the scene as quickly as his long legs can carry him. As his touch fades from my skin, I am left too stunned to follow.

The air is thick with tension, even with him gone.

Unsure of what else I can do, I continue to stand on my threshold, attempting to process what just happened. Attempting to accept that there really are tears beading in my eyes.

Instead of finding answers, I find my heart erratically throwing itself against the inner walls of my chest, so hard and so fast that at any moment, I'm sure it will break out and run from me.

Did he…

Did Heiwajima Shizuo _really_… just… kiss me?

* * *

><p>I can't stop thinking about it.<p>

My mind won't go anywhere else.

His lips. My skin. The tingling sensation that refuses to go away as a result. It sent some sort of feeling - akin to sparks - shooting through my bloodstream, attacking more than just this one patch of skin.

I don't know what it means.

I don't know why it feels like drowning and flying at the exact same time.

All I do know is that I _think_ I hate it. And I don't think that monsters like Shizuo are supposed to make a person feel like this. They aren't supposed to make Orihara Izaya feel like this, as I am above trite emotions. Unwilling to succumb to another.

I will not be controlled.

Big words they are which go unspoken. The standards have never been set quite so high as to appear almost out of reach.

Yet not so high that he isn't keeping me awake tonight.

Tossing and turning, I know I am exhausted. My eyelids are heavy. My muscles are sore. However, my mind is screaming desperately for answers; refusing to be ignored. It does not want me to waste my precious time on sleep.

Is it too much to ask for it to all go away?

Becoming desperate, I roll out of bed, shuddering as the cool air hits my body after keeping so warm beneath my blankets and sheets. I despise the cold.

Treading to the bathroom, I decide that it isn't so wrong to give in all of the time. Sometimes, a desperate situation calls for it. And if this isn't desperate, I don't know what is.

Shuffling through my medicine cabinet, I dig through shelf after shelf until I pinpoint exactly what I am in need of.

I told myself I would never use these; that if anything, I'd drug somebody with them instead. Slip them into the right person's drink at the right time for the right job, if not my own amusement.

Now, here I am, glaring at the bright orange bottle as I curse my dependency.

So unfair. So disgusting.

I down two sleeping pills before trudging back to bed, entirely discontented with my choice to take them. Is it even that anymore? A choice?

What's next? Will I be forced out of dealing information entirely; left with no other options but to _actually_ take up financial planning as a legitimate career, rather than a disguise? Like a desperate nobody who threw away his childhood dream because of some minor setback?

I was not born to be limited or powerless.

I am above rules. Above limitations. Above my humans. And most certainly above Shizuo.

But if it's true... if I'm not just telling myself the things I want to hear... why am I thinking about it like this? Why can I still feel him?

And why is it that I'm the one who needs him so damn much?

Most importantly... would I have let him kiss me if I had seen it coming?

I'm beginning to doubt myself.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** Just in case you weren't already aware, you guys are the best. THANK YOU SO MUCH!

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><p>[<em>Are you a lonely person, Orihara Izaya<em>?]

Grimacing, I slam my laptop shut, almost hoping to have broken the pricey electronic for the sheer fact that nothing would please me more than wiping this question out of my hard drive, and therefore, my memory.

What the hell kind of question is that?

The kind that doesn't warrant a response, I decide, rubbing away a sore spot developing in my head.

Why does he always try to make it so personal? And how does he always make it sound so strange and perverted through an online chat?

Save me, Chris Hansen! This invisible man wants to touch me inappropriately!

"You seem agitated, Orihara-san," a cool voice reaches my ears, tearing me away from my mental rant while I attempt to burn holes in my laptop with my eyes.

Needless to say, I don't think it's working.

Sighing, I look up at Shiki-san, willing the scowl away from my face. "Worried about me?" I tease, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.

"I'm worried that you may be unfit for this job," he is blunt as ever in his opinion. "Is my money well spent?"

I don't let the possible insult offend me, but add fuel to my fire. "Have I ever failed you?" I give him a confident grin.

"We both know that it is not your skill that concerns me. I would only expect the best from you. Your unfortunate health is what I am concerned about."

"Unfortunate? That's mean, Shiki-san."

"The truth hurts," he smiles.

"Aye... so it does."

"But you have been feeling better recently?" he asks, settling his dark gray eyes on mine.

"Yes," I nod.

"Migraines, is it?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," I calmly tell him with a sad smile. "The doctor says its cause is a brain injury. On the plus side, it's not a tumor."

Leaving my desk, I slink closer toward him, enjoying the way he tenses as I approach. I take a seat beside him on the couch.

"It's a shame to lose such a valuable resource - even temporarily," Shiki keeps professional, leaning forward to sift through a few files I've created for him. "Is there anything I can do to be of help?"

I think for a moment, leaning back against the ebony leather cushions. "Don't write me off. I'm still the best you have."

"Underestimating our value, Orihara-san?"

I clench my teeth, realizing how the tables are slowly beginning to turn. "I already told you I'm the best. You knew it the first time you hired me. And you know it now."

Bringing is full focus back to me, the executive's miniscule grin completely vanishes from his otherwise serious face. "Knowing how stubborn you can be, I feel as if there is another matter weighing on your mind. One that has nothing to do with me. Dare I ask?"

"Nothing ever gets past Shiki-san, does it?" I nervously laugh.

"Not when you're involved. I need to know that you're in the right mind before asking for your services."

His expectations of me are not irrational, both of us knowing I have far too much respect for him to damage our business relationship.

"I won't allow my personal matters to compromise business with you," I say in full knowledge that it already has. "It's just that..."

Sharply inhaling, I stare down at my hands, not missing the way they shake when my head is pounding. And at the same time, I know I'm denying that I wish they were, because waiting to find myself in agony is torture in itself.

"Do you remember when we met...?" I ask.

He smirks. "Who could forget watching a sixteen-year-old demolish a grown man with words alone? You intrigued me immediately."

"And why did you hire me?"

Shiki shrugs. "Numerous purposes."

"But the real reason...?"

"Judging me, Orihara-san?" he teasingly inquires.

"Not at all. You hired me because you were infatuated with me. Weren't you?"

Shiki is calm. If he's feeling any semblance of surprise right now, it's masked behind his stoic exterior; not even appearing in his glassy steel-colored eyes. He knows me far too well to be played by clever words.

"It's true," he nods slowly, "You do have a beautiful charm about you that reeled me in. Though... need I remind you that you were rather infatuated as well?"

I smile coyly. "Or maybe you're better at hiding it."

"Regardless, we never would have worked out," the man neither confirms nor denies me less-than-subtle insinuation. "You're much too young, and your emotional attachment to other people is practically nonexistent. To you, I'm just another interesting specimen beneath your looking glass."

"Yet you still find it impossible not to love me," I state with pride.

"Impossible?" he shakes his head, "No._ Difficult_. You're difficult, Orihara-san."

"Oh right… You've moved on."

"Only because you can't love individually, or unconditionally. Why should I waste my time? I have far more important things to do than allow myself to be broken up over you."

"You're right, Shiki-san," I agree keeping my melancholy grin, almost regretting what we could have been, knowing he could have given me everything and more - knowing he_ wanted_ to. "I couldn't even pretend."

Tilting his head, he observes me from a sideways angle. "So what is this really about?"

"When did you realize Akabayashi was right for you...?"

Shiki pulls a cigarette from his white blazer's pocket, knowing I won't deny him his nicotine fix, as much as I hate for him to smoke in my apartment. "When he lost his eye," he tells me, taking a long drag from the stick. "And even when his heart was broken, he was still smiling like some crazed imbecile, just as he always does."

My heart skips a beat, taking the time to instead fill with adrenaline. "When we were still together?"

"You asked when I realized it; not when I accepted it," he explains. "That took much longer."

"Really...?"

"I was never once disloyal to you," he promises.

I do not try to hide what we both know to be true. "I was. Severely."

"That's because you're positively insatiable."

"I_ was_," I correct him. "Now, I just feel like a feeble old man."

"Are you ever going to tell me what this is about?" he wonders.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I spend a few moments, staring off into space while my mind attempts to put an answer together. Shiki's eyes are still trained on me as they so often are.

"The man I hate most…" I take a deep breath, knowing that if I don't speak now I never will, "…kissed me yesterday. And then Shinichi asked me if I was lonely."

"Are you?"

"Lonely?" I scoff. "I don't know."

"And the kiss…?"

"Clueless."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note**: Well, I had something to say... and then I lost it. ):

Poop!

WELL... THANK YOU AS ALWAYS! It's always an honor to hear what you all think of my story! ;D

* * *

><p>"Damn it, Shizu-chan, answer your phone!" I curse into the mouthpiece as the black device picks up ring after ring until the automated service that is his voicemail interrupts.<p>

I hang up; then redial. Hang up. Redial. Hang up. Redial.

Ahhh, it's the same fucking mantra in the form of technology!

But the brute doesn't answer, despite our deal. And he hasn't answered.

This is ridiculous.

_Fucking ridiculous_.

For nearly four days, I've heard nothing from him, and as far as I know, neither has anybody else. It is as if the protozoan simply vanished off the face of the earth, and everyone is too caught up in their own pathetic little lives to even notice. Do they have no idea of the turmoil I am in!

All the while, my conversation with Shiki plays in my head, telling me that I may be feeling something I could never feel for the executive.

The thought sends a shudder through my spine as I continue to call.

"_Maybe he's on vacation," Shinra tried to tell me two days ago, knowing it was a cheap shot from the start._

"_Oh please. Like you don't already know I hired him," I snapped._

"_He… may have mentioned it."_

"_Look, I don't have time to mess around," I groaned, "I'm completely out of pills, including the shit you gave me. I need him."_

"_Better Shizuo than drugs, right?" he tried to lighten the mood, failing at an epic level._

"_Do you want to die?" I snapped._

"_I'm sorry, Izaya. I really haven't heard from him. Neither has Celty. But I'll call you if we do."_

"_Fucking useless…" I hissed, losing hope._

"_I'm sorry. I'll send Celty over with some painkillers if you want."_

"_No thanks…"_

I haven't stopped thinking about Shizuo's kiss, even when the pounding in my head insists on being my main, torturous focus, I can't stop, constantly wishing I could still feel it, as anything in the world is better than this pain.

Honestly, I can't even say I care that he did it. After all, the action was nothing more than a small peck. Innocent and clueless, bearing no ulterior motives that I could read, despite how unpredictable the blond can be.

Now, as a dizzying migraine threatens to devour me, I need him. Closed blinds and the hot pack over my forehead is not enough to rid me of my suffering. Only Shizuo can do that.

I could kill him for ignoring me.

A final ring claws through my eardrum before his voicemail picks up for the billionth time. Wherever he is, I know he knows I'm calling. So this time, I leave a message.

"Damn it, Shizu-chan," I sigh, reminding myself that the best way to survive this affliction is just to breathe as best I can. "Stop being such a stubborn idiot. I don't fucking care that you kissed me. Just get your ass over here. Now."

If this pain isn't the death of me, suffocation due to anxiety just might draw my final breath.

Ten minutes later, my phone vibrates with a new text message.

[_Be there as soon as I finish this job_.]

A subtle feeling of bitterness washes over me, making me feel things for Shizuo that I haven't felt since hiring him. I wish I could hate him more than I ever have before. Unfortunately, I'm far too desperate for his warmth, angry that for the past two days I've suffered through blinding torment while he ignores my disgustingly desperate calls.

Oh, I could _really_ kill him.

Tears sting my eyes as I stare at the screen, typing out a message as quickly as I can before phone's bright light burns a hole through my brain.

I have nothing to numb this on my own.

[_Hurry. I need you_.]

[_On my way_.]

Tch…

He really does irritate me. This is his fucking fault, I'm paying him, and he can't even show up when he's needed? Let alone take a damn call? But of course, after I chew him out via voice message, he has the audacity to reply in a text?

Coward.

Kissing me like that and then not even having the common courtesy to answer is phone. For someone so strong, the idiot really has no guts. Sure, he may seem ballsy when he's pissed off, and even more so with that sneak attack act of insanity he tried to pull. But if he doesn't have the intestinal fortitude to give me an explanation - let alone do his job - then why the hell did he go and do it in the first place!

Idiot.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Whoa…" he raises his hands in surrender, "Take it easy, Flea."

"No!" I snap. "I've been losing my fucking mind thanks to you!"

Taking note that I'm seething at this point, Shizuo is hesitant to bring himself inside my apartment, probably wondering if this is the last place he's going to see before he dies. I don't blame him. If I were in his shoes, I'd be afraid, too.

"I'm sorry," he huffs, managing to step inside before I'm driven to slam the door in his dumb face due to the raw anger. "I meant to call you back."

"Did you?" I hiss. "Or do you honestly think that these headaches have me so delusional that I wouldn't remember how desperate I was for you!"

Reaching out as if to touch me, Shizuo quickly finds himself recoiling when I slap his hand away. "Izaya…"

"Don't even think about it," I warn him, wishing I had my switchblade on me so that I can show him just how serious I am. Before I can stop them, I feel the burn of tears prick my eyes. "What the hell am I even paying you for?"

"You don't have to pay me," his frown deepens, "Already told you that. And I swear. I wasn't trying to ignore you!"

"Then what were you doing?" I interrogate him, demanding an explanation before this ends in bloodshed.

"I was gonna call you back," his voice is soft and honest. "I was seriously planning to apologize for kissing you like that. I mean… I know it's inappropriate. I really dunno what got into me and-"

"Get to the point," I say, unfazed by his lame excuses.

"My brother came home early. I just forgot…"

"_FORGOT?_!" I echo, feeling my stomach churn from a mixture of pain and ire. "I've been calling you for three fucking days. How the hell do you forget?"

My words must be offensive because he immediately growls back at me. "I just fucking did."

"Oh? So explain why you ran off the other day? Since, clearly, it has nothing to do with forgetting about me."

Shizuo clenches his fists, holding them firmly at his sides. We are locked in a staring contest for a few moments as he tries to ride out his own waves of anger. That said, mine aren't going anywhere.

With my brain feeling like it's about to explode out of my skull - my entire body shaking as a result of the pain - I tell myself that I'm not about to lose twice today. Especially not to Shizuo. I have every right to be upset, and even more right to continue on hating him. How dare he use me like that…

Eventually, he relaxes a bit, staring at me with apologetic eyes.

"I tried to answer…" he says quietly, "And I tried to call you back…"

"You're going to have to elaborate because saying you tried isn't going to save your sorry ass."

"I… after I…"

"Kissed me?"

He swallows a lump in his throat, barely choking it down. "I didn't know what to say…"

"I don't need you to speak. I need your body heat," I remind him, cradling my head in my hands.

It feels like being hit over and over and fucking over again.

A nauseating chill runs down my spine. Suddenly, the world begins to tilt.

"Hey…" he steps forward, reaching out to me. "Izaya…_ hey_…"

Staggering backwards, I make a guess at what he's trying to tell me. "I'm fine," I insist, silently wondering how many times I've dropped this line when it was clearly untrue.

"No. You're not," he disagrees, "You're white as a sheet."

"I've… I've always… had… light skin…" retorting, I suddenly feel as if the air has been squeezed out of my lungs, and my esophagus tied to prevent its reentrance. With one hand on my head, the other reaches for my pounding heart.

I can't breathe…

Why can't I breathe?

"Izaya?" I hear the brute call my name.

Black spots invade my sight, making it impossible for me to see the man who sounds so distant, almost as if he's speaking to me under water. My mind goes blank, and my body simultaneously feels both heavy and light. An impossible blend of floating and falling.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** I may not be able to update as much this weekend, so I'm trying to get you as many updates as possible. Given that this fic is already complete, I'm really trying to get the chapters up and revised as fast as possible. There are just so many!

Thank you all! I love your enthusiasm! This is the kind of stuff that keeps me writing. :D

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><p>Muffled and without form, the voices surrounding me are much too loud, filling my head; irritating my senses. I can't help but release a groan of annoyance as they pull me into consciousness.<p>

"Ngh…" I try opening my eyes, finding the experience difficult as my vision is infiltrated by light; albeit dim.

"I-Izaya…?"

I recognize that sound, though my head feels heavy. Too heavy to think about who it could be.

And I'm so comfortable… so comfortable enveloped in a heat so perfect that it can only be described as when -

"Come on, Flea…" another familiar voice comes in.

Shuddering at the sound, my eyes adjust to the small onslaught of light, soon giving shape and definition to my surroundings.

I'm in my bedroom, tucked under blankets and sheets while Shinra stands at the foot of my bed, wearing his usual sadistic grin on his boyish face. I wonder what the hell he's smiling about until I feel a slight push against my back.

I close my eyes again, wishing to succumb to the dark heat. Shizuo takes another deep breath; his heart beating erratically, driving me insane - though not in an unpleasant sense - as I feel it through my shirt; against my shoulder. Quite honestly, I don't know what to make of it; yet if it sticks around a while longer… I don't think I'd mind…

Shifting, I make myself more comfortable against his strong chest, wondering if this is uncomfortable for him. Then again, what do I care? It isn't as if I've asked the monster to take me in his potentially deadly arms in such a fashion. I did not volunteer myself to be placed between his legs like this; sharing my bed with him in a way that is only for my benefit.

Really. I didn't.

"Well… this is awkward…" I say slowly, feeling two sets of eyes on me.

"You collapsed," Shinra explains what I've already pieced together by now.

Frankly, I don't care. I'm just relieved to be soaking in this warmth after four days of withdrawal. Stupid Shizu-chan… Excuses aside, he's here now. And maybe this is what I should have been focused on all along, rather than yelling at him about how he wasn't here when I needed him… and that kiss just doesn't matter so long as I'm getting what I want.

"Is that a problem?" I tease, quickly striking the doctor with my cynical thoughts.

"You're running a pretty high fever, Izaya," he tells me, ignoring my crass tone.

"And here I was thinking I was immune to all illness."

"Don't be such a jerk, Flea," the brute behind me growls. "You scared the hell outta me."

"You mean it didn't excite you at all? Or make you think - for a split second - that I might be dead?" Receiving a mental image of the blond dancing on my grave, I can't help but chuckle.

And for the record, I'm still pissed off.

"No…"

"Oh, Shizu-chan. Such a hero, ne?" I smile, rolling onto my side. Without thinking much of it, I press my ear against his chest, only startling myself when I hear the surprisingly soothing beat of his heart still going crazy behind his ribs. It makes me wonder why prescriptions can't work quite so well. This is…

"It's stress induced, Izaya."

I open an eye half-way to give Shinra the best scrutinizing glare I can muster at the moment. It isn't much, but it still makes him shiver.

"For someone who's home all day, you shouldn't have anything weighing on you enough to make you ill like this," he explains, certain that he's right. "And you've sort of let yourself go. The Orihara Izaya I've known since middle school is kind of a health nut. You're in terrible shape."

"That's insulting," I tell him.

"What kind of doctor would I be if I didn't tell you the truth?"

For the most part, I know he's right. I have, indeed, let myself go. However… there is a reason behind the stress. What Shinra doesn't realize is that I know exactly what the source is.

* * *

><p>"So… I'll be alright, then?" I ask Shinra, feeling eager for him to leave.<p>

I've been awake for at least an hour now; happy to say I have barely moved from my comfortable position held in place by this man, while his fingers automatically find my hair as they so often do. It would be the most relaxing sensation in the world were it not for Shinra's constant questions and "advice" on what I should, and should not, do to or with my body while in this questionable state of being.

"Yes, but I would still suggest taking it easy and drinking plenty of fluids, just like with any other fever," he nods, "And chill out. You really have to try taking care of yourself. It seems to me that you've just sort of given up…"

This comment brings a deep frown to my face.

"The Izaya I know wouldn't let this eat him alive."

But his tone, and those words, make me smile despite the influx of bad news. "You haven't sounded so nurturing in years, Shinra," I tell him.

The doctor appears mildly hurt, his gaze flicking back and forth between mine and Shizuo's. He's soaking in the image, all the while, recollections of our youth fill his mind. Shinra is contemplative, wondering if it should have been him all this time. "You're still my friend. I have no idea why… but you are."

"Middle school?"

"Right… middle school…"

Shizuo shifts from beneath me, undoubtedly uncomfortable. He can sense the subtle hints in our tones. This is something that digs into a past he wasn't a part of, but he won't dare to read between the lines.

Shinra collects what medical supplies he has brought with him, leaving a fresh bottle of sleeping pills on my dresser. "I called in a refill for your prescription, by the way," he says, "You can have Celty bring it to you tomorrow."

"Thanks…"

"Yeah…" Shizuo adds quietly, "Thanks for coming over. I wouldn't have known what to do."

Taking one last look at an image none of us ever thought would - or _should_ - exist, the doctor takes his leave, adding a final thought. "Just try not to hurt him."

"I won't," the blond beneath me replies.

Shinra looks back with a dark smirk. We both know who he's really talking to, subtly leaving Shizuo out of the loop.

"Is it just me or was he acting extremely weird?" he asks as soon as we hear the front door click.

Rolling my eyes, I cannot help but find amusement in the irony. Shinra has never acted this way before. That said, there's a reason for it. With our feelings mutual, I never expected to gain that sort of reaction.

Shizuo and I… we aren't even… Nowhere near…

"When is he not weird?"

"Yeah... but... did something happen between you that I don't know about?"

Oh, Shizu-chan. You have no idea.

"He's just being bitter. Don't worry about it."

He huffs, unsatisfied by my secrets; not caring whether or not any of it is his business. Controlled by curiosity, I can sense that this will eat at him until he knows there's nothing to worry about. So, Shizuo isn't human; yet he can still act like one.

"Do you plan to continue acting like a little boy until I tell you what you think you want to hear, Shizu-chan?"

"No..." he grumbles, "I don't know... maybe."

His attempt at secrecy is almost cute. Surprisingly, not at all unpleasant.

Defeated, I decide I can always keep it vague, wondering how many more of my past relationships are going to sneak up on me this week.

"Shinra and I had a thing."

"A thing...?"

I nod, feeling a little dirty, "Yeah. A thing."

"What kind of thing?"

"Just a little thing!" I pretend it's no big deal - because it's not.

Shizuo seems to disagree… "What kind of _little thing_?"

"The kind that he calls an experiment… which I suppose it was, depending on who you ask."

"Okay…"

He doesn't get it, and if he does, he's trying hard not to.

"Still confused?" I wonder, trying not to sound too condescending. I'd rather he did not see me as so many people do.

"A little…"

"At the end of middle school until right before high school, I used Shinra frequently."

"Tch. What else is new? You kinda use everyone."

I clear my throat, attempting to make it more obvious. "Not quite like that…"

Realization seems to knock Shizuo upside the head as he jolts. Every one of his muscles beneath me tenses, becoming hard like steel. Looking at him, the man is toned enough, but still pretty thin. His actions are a lot bigger than anyone who doesn't know of him would expect, and I'm sure that if he weren't so tall, he wouldn't be much bigger than me. It's his height that gives him his size. But when he feels like this, you realize that there's something raw and powerful beneath the surface. Something that nobody should ever be foolish enough to awaken.

Right now, he isn't even angry.

"You and_ Shinra_?" he asks with just the right inflection giving away his shock and surprise.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** I just found out I'm busy today. I hate when that happens! But here! Updates! I'm going to try to get more than one in today. :D

And whooaaa! We're almost at 200 reviews? THANK YOU GUYS! There are now 79 favorites and 102 alerts as well. That blows my mind. I never thought anybody would like this story that much. It was just kind of a fluke that I started this, and I'm so happy that people like my writing. It definitely gives me confidence, and I really appreciate it!

* * *

><p>"It was like ten years ago, Shizu-chan," I say with nonchalance, feeling that it really isn't a big deal who I've been with in the past.<p>

On top of that, it has strictly nothing to do with him. We had yet to be introduced when it happened. Not like it matters even if we had. I hate him. We hate each other.

"But... _Shinra_...?" he says with a bit of scrutiny, "Why Shinra?"

Smiling fondly at my childhood reminiscences, I tell him, hardly paying attention to myself as I make it a point to snuggle closer. "We were closer than one might think. There's more beneath the surface than meets the eye."

"Obviously," he scoffs.

I shrug, trying not to care. "I needed to get my rocks off somehow."

"Then why not a girl?"

"Too complicated - clingy," I explain, "Especially at fourteen. Not that my parents were around to care, but being so young... and then there's the attachment. Shinra just seemed_… logical_."

"What about Celty...?" he wonders, clearly concerned for his friend; knowing where her feelings for the estranged doctor now stand.

"She knows. I told her. After all, we were kids. It was nothing more than a phase."

Shizuo thinks about it for a minute, trying to process this new information, because it's certainly something he never would have expected. He never over-analyzes anything. I assume it is because he's too emotional. He finds these complicated circumstances aggravating, and probably emotionally painful at times.

So maybe he's not _really_ an idiot. He just doesn't want to get hurt more than he has been.

"So what happened?"

"I broke it off. He loved Celty too much, and I owe it to him not to get between that for my own benefit," I grin, with Shiki's word - _insatiable_ - popping into mind. "Naturally, being each other's first, we do care about each other. Albeit, I'm sure he resents me just a little too much."

"Seems so weird... I dunno..."

"What's done is done. With only one shot at life, I'm not going to sit back and crumble over the dork - or anyone else for that matter."

A few moments of silence pass between us. I relax as his hand finds my hair, nearly lulling me to sleep with those magic fingers. As quickly as the topic began, it fades away in.

What bothers me now are the doctor's departing words.

Knowing what he means is far from accepting it.

Shizuo isn't like them. He isn't like Shinra or Shiki by any means. My relationships with them both were nothing more than that of a hormonal placebo, filling a particular void until they found what _they_ truly needed. In turn, I was temporarily satisfied.

That said, I have no intention of being the same way for Shizuo; no reason to fill his void until somebody else comes along.

Why?

Because I don't give my employees benefits, nor do I succumb to their fickle games of Kiss-and-Run.

Unlike the others before him, I don't want Shizuo. I need him.

Kissing me won't change that.

"Izaya...?"

"Hm?" I respond sleepily, slowly emptying my thoughts.

I feel awful with the effects of my fever making themselves more prevalent since the conversation has died. There is a light throbbing in my head, though it is nothing close to what I am generally cursed with. And then there's Shizuo's hand slowly chasing it away.

"You've been with a lot of people, haven't you?"

"Ne. Don't make me sound like a slut."

"That's not... I mean... NO!" he stutters, "That's not what I'm trying to say!"

"Calm down, Shizu-chan. I'm only teasing."

He sighs in relief. "I can never tell..."

"If that is what you thought of me, I would have nobody to blame but myself. What makes you ask?"

"I dunno... have you ever been in love...?"

"Me?" I smirk. "No. And I can't say I have any desire for it either."

"Really?" he comes off as a little disheartened. "Why not...?"

"Because emotional attachment would only get in the way of personal goals. Besides, with so many interesting humans at my beck and call, who would I choose? As much as I'd enjoy it, not everyone can have me."

"I see..."

"What about you?" I ask, doing my best to keep this from going in the direction I know he's hoping it will. "Shizu-chan must like someone, ne?"

"What makes you say that?" he jumps on the defense.

"Simple. Girls adore you."

He shakes his head as if to disagree. "I've never been with anyone."

"At all?"

"At all," he echoes.

For some reason, I find this surprising, even if it isn't all that unlikely. The idea alone seems frightening.

"Well, that's a shame," I use my best reassuring voice, "You'd be good at it."

"I don't think so..."

I look up at him in time to catch his frown as he stares out the window, gold eyes unfocused on what actually sits outside of the glass. Night has fallen over Tokyo, and the countless lights of the city reflect in each melancholy sphere.

"What makes you say that?"

"What if I hurt them...?"

"I don't think you would," I say with confidence, somehow pained by such a hurt look in his eyes. "Shizu-chan couldn't hurt someone he cares about."

"Then why is it so easy for me to hurt you?"

Startled by his heavy words, I will my heart to keep its regular pace. Being in his arms like this is mortifying enough. Equip the right words to them, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do anymore. I don't know what he means.

"Because we're different," I explain, "Because you don't care about me in an affectionate manner."

"But why?"

There's a sense of urgency in his tone. He really needs to know.

"I don't know. That's just how we're programmed."

"So... what if I wanna be reprogrammed then?"

This is becoming a strange conversation that has me shifting uncomfortably, though I don't think he notices. "I never thought about it. I don't have any desire to be re-written."

"Even though you're sick?" he queries, tightening his hold; bringing me closer to his heat.

"Sticking with computer analogies, let's just call this a virus, ne?"

"Then... does that make me an anti-virus...?"

Even as exhaustion begins to take me, I can't help the entertained laugh that erupts out of me in response to such a question. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what this man is. He's something else, that's for certain.

Maybe he isn't even all that bad. A little rough around the edges, while remaining a clean cut visual. Honest. Good natured at heart, despite the violent rampages. And there must be sugar in his blood, or something, to make him act like this toward me - of all people.

I guess I never saw him as a bad guy anyway. Misunderstood, maybe.

But beneath it all, maybe Heiwajima Shizuo is just like everybody else. He wants to be loved. He doesn't want to live out his life alone, in fear that he'll cause harm to somebody he has feelings for. So, for the briefest of moments, I try to imagine myself in his place, wondering what it would be like to strive for trite romances. Because at twenty-four, he's never had one, while I can count way too many names of people I only pretended to care about.

He wants what I take for granted - what I see as nothing more than a terrible weakness. A weakness that I've only ever feared, and never felt for myself.

So was that his first time placing his lips on another person's skin? And am I the first person he has ever held? Is longing for love a greater curse than being trapped in its clutches?

An anxious pit opens in my stomach at the thought.

For all the people I've been with, manipulated, charmed, used, and thrown away, I've never known anybody quite like this.

"It's getting late..." he whispers through the darkness that has filled the room.

I know what that means; yet for some reason...

[_Are you lonely, Orihara-san?_]

Grimacing, I pathetically latch onto Shizuo's shirt, telling myself that it's simply not possible. I have absolutely everything I could ever need. And more. I am above loneliness just as I am above the need for the love of another.

What happens next isn't for me. It's for Shizuo. It's to show him that the stupid kiss wasn't a big deal, so he doesn't have to hide from me. I don't care, just as long as he's here when I need him. I don't care.

"You should stay," I tell him, loving the way his heart rate shoots back up at my words, furiously pumping with adrenaline.

"A-are you sure about that?" he asks, dumbfounded.

"If I wasn't sure I wouldn't have said so."

"I... uh..."

"I'm sick. And tired. And everything hurts... so stay."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:** SUP, KIDS!

I thought I'd drop in another update before tomorrow. Thank you for helping me reach 200 reviews! That is SOOOO flippin cool. You have no idea!

Faves and Alerts are also UBER appreciated!

* * *

><p>"Ugh... I feel like shit..." I groan, slowly rolling out of bed the following morning.<p>

Pressing my palm against my forehead, I fight for clarity in my vision and thoughts as I stand. My legs wobble. I wonder if this is how jellyfish feel when they wash up on sandy shores.

"Maybe you should stay in bed," Shizuo suggests nervously, offering an arm for support.

I shiver in response to the slight sensation of heat, not forgetting that it was mine all night as we slept together. But I can't keep thinking about his arms twisted around me. The thoughts are going to force me into self-destruction.

"No," I shake my head, "I have to pee..."

"Ah... right..."

The last time I felt this bad I had been severely hung over, reminding me how stupid it is that I don't mind poisoning myself with alcohol if the situation calls for it, but I hate taking medications. I suppose this is because one makes me feel empowered and the other makes me feel weak.

"Damn it! This sucks!" I whine, clinging to the blond like some helpless wretch.

He helps me keep steady and balanced as we move into the bathroom. "You're okay," he says in a promising tone, "I have you."

"And I have a migraine the size of Mount Fuji!"

"Celty already sent me a text. She's bringing your medication soon."

"You know that shit doesn't help, ne?" I ask him, slipping out of his grip to use the bathroom door as my new source of support.

"I thought it made you less nauseous…?"

"Weh," I mumble. I wave him off, closing the door for a bit of privacy.

Reemerging moments later, I am not at all surprised to find him waiting for me, quickly motioning to slip his arm around me as he guides me back to bed. I quickly find that, even tucked into warm sheets, it's far less comfortable without him.

"Izaya… You're shaking…" he tells me, resting his hand on my shoulder.

I don't say anything in response, feeling for myself as the tremors ripple through my worn body. Instead, I struggle to make myself feel like the filling inside of a fresh, hot steam bun. This fever is determined to make me feel as awful as possible, making sure that all the blankets in my apartment aren't enough to feel warm.

"Shinra said you need fluids…" the blond keeps speaking, regardless of my lacking responses, "You didn't have anything after he left. I bet you're dehydrated."

My eyes want to close, forcing me to fight to keep them open. They don't care that I've only just woken up, but my body knows that the short journey to relieve myself used more energy than I actually have. Speaking feels like too much of a challenge right now.

"Hey…" Shizuo nudges me a bit, "Stay awake for a little bit. I'm gonna get you something to drink."

"I… Ngh…" I flinch, the sound of my own voice worsening my headache. "Shizu-chan…"

The blond sits beside me on the edge of the mattress. His hand hasn't moved from my shoulder, and he stares at me with concern in his saffron irises. Something about the look… it's as if he is on the verge of tears if this ailment does not have me delirious.

"Y-you…"

"I what…?" he asks, both curious and skeptical.

His fingertips drag down my bicep, to my forearm, into my hand, where he laces our fingers and I can't help but make a discomfited attempt to tighten the hold. It's a pathetic gesture, displaying my lacking strength.

"You were…" I inhale, "You were never - never supposed to see me weak."

Hurt flashes in his eyes. "You're not weak, Izaya."

"Hnn… don't lie…"

"I'm not."

He is earnest, only sending me deeper into confusion while those sweet eyes sparkle. So tantalizing, even as he tears them away from my own, gazing sadly upon our intertwined fingers.

ACK! How delusional, I must be! Disgusting…

"Of course you are," I argue, despite the protesting voice in my aching head. "And nobody with half a brain could disagree with me."

"I'm serious," his voice drops an octave, and his brows furrow. "I don't think you're weak."

"What then…?" I hiss, narrowing my eyes. "If it's not weak to be completely vulnerable in front of you, what is it?"

My words have him taken aback, but not quite hesitant. "You're sick... but you'll get better. I'll make sure you do."

"You can't make sure of anything, Shizu-chan," I tell him, burning holes into him with as cruel a leer as I can form.

Even my eyeballs are exhausted.

"How do you know?" he argues desperately, putting up the fight to be understood. "I did this to you! I have to make it go away."

"I'm not an idiot. Don't try to get my hopes up over something that's just as out of your control as it is mine."

Suddenly, Shizuo stiffens, bringing forth an immediate tension that fills the room. "You're wrong. I can control it. I _have_ controlled it."

"Tch..." I scowl, finally breaking the eye contact.

Though, I cannot help but feel the slightest fraction of intimidation in reaction to his current stance over me. He could kill me in a single swoop. Slam his fist on my chest. Stop my heart. Break my spine. Snap my neck.

Except... there's something about him that ensures he isn't going to do any of those things.

"You know I have," his harsh voice softens; his body relaxes. "I've watched it leave you with my own eyes."

Shizuo's words send a shiver down my spine, somehow hurting me despite what they lack in malice. He means it. He believes it with every fiber of his being. And he wants to atone more than the most wretched of sinners in the face of his God. To make amends. Begging for a final chance.

It's not simple a desire. To him, this is an absolute need. This is the difference between life and death. This is the difference between being human and a complete monstrosity.

And none of it is really his fault.

"I'm running out of fight, Shizu-chan..." I somberly tell him, staring at the ceiling above our heads. "Some mornings I wake up and wish I was dead."

"I know..."

A pressure builds up behind my eyes. Tears concocted of various breeds of pain infecting me like this illness. Body, mind, heart, and soul. I don't understand how anyone could ever be expected to live like this. Trapped beneath the weight of wretched agony. Cursed.

"Don't make a promise you can't keep," I warn him, choking back the cries that would love to rip me in half at my most vulnerable.

"Don't tell me I can't keep it."

I glance back at him, taking immediate notice to the glaze over his sunrise eyes, reflecting so much that he could never put into words. It's an image of his soul silently crying for help.

Somehow, I understand it.

"You know me better than to think that I would ever try to hurt anyone like this. Even you, Izaya." His shoulders slump in utter hopelessness. "I don't wanna be like this. I don't wanna be this damn monster that everyone fears."

"What do you want, Shizuo?" I inquire, pulling myself up with what little of my strength remains to look at him on equal levels.

The proper use of his name stuns his ears.

It makes me realize that he's vulnerable too. He's in a state of pain that I've made a conscious effort to lock away. To not be consumed by. But it's shadowed. Unmasked as it is, his furious exterior makes it nearly invisible to those who only know his uncontrollable ire.

Nobody knows him. Nobody truly comprehends life in his shoes, and how much it must pain him to make it through day after day the way he does. Constantly resenting himself for something he never asked for.

Shizuo doesn't want to be alone. He simply doesn't have a choice.

"If I could live my life with one person, knowing I could never hurt them... that would be enough..." he sighs. "I'd love them with everything I've got. Fuck the rest."


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** Aaaahh. So much to do today. Trying to get a few fics done so I can start a new one. I'm so tired, but hell. It's worth it if I get to write.

:3

Thank you, as always! Your comments always put a smile on my face. :D

And thank you for reading the two oneshots I posted last night as well!

* * *

><p>I confess that I find myself significantly blown away by this. A man whose sheer strength is a great weapon, capable of giving him anything he wants, longs for the one thing he fears to have. Meanwhile, I sit back and make a mockery of the prospect.<p>

_Love._

Love which is just as cruel as it is a blessing. Love which builds us up to great heights, only to watch us shatter when we fall. Love that is so hard to come by; yet so easy to leave us.

Love is destruction.

Which is why I've made it a personal goal to stay far, far away. Because I may be weak; I may be spent, but I will not lose myself to a substance that lives in fairytales, and only survives between a non-existent princess and her equally non-existent prince. Of which, I am neither.

Love. A_ lie_.

"You're not weak, Izaya," Shizuo mutters. "I am."

"Are you kidding?" I smirk, trying to lighten this overcast mood with a topic that does not send my mind into immediate panic. "Ne~ If I had half your strength I wouldn't be stuck in bed. I'd be ruling the world!"

A half-smile does not do much to brighten the blond's features. "You know what I mean."

Before I can control myself, our lips are only a breath apart as I press my forehead against his, drugged by the heat that soaks into my skull as a result.

Topic change failed.

"We keep digging ourselves deeper..." I whisper.

Keeping his head against mine, he pulls me closer for a moment, wrapping me in his heat; sensing everything I need from him right now. Everything that both calms and terrifies me. Everything I can't explain. Everything that I don't understand. Everything I don't want... even though I don't want to let it go either.

"I don't care," he whispers back, lowering me into soft sheets without breaking contact.

"Shizu-chan...?"

"I don't."

A nervousness I've never experienced before quickly becomes overpowering. My body is screaming at me, reminding me that every cell is in excruciating pain, but my mind feels so foggy. My chest feels so... light. For once, I can block out the agony as it rages war to bring me down.

I want to fight this.

I _want_ Shizuo to save me.

And I think... I might want to return the favor with more than just paying his debt.

"Shizu-chan," I repeat feeling breathless.

"I... I don't regret this..."

Pressing his body against mine, he leans into me dangerously slow, his mouth slightly ajar as the space between us becomes thinner and thinner. My mind is screaming at me to take hold of my senses - to stop this madness before it consumes me. But damn it!

An animalistic quality glows in his morning eyes.

He's fucking hypnotic.

Irresistible to my curiosity.

Just like ever enticing specimen before him, I feel a strong desire to have those soft lips - whose silky touch still burns my cheek - to have the same effect on my mouth.

It has been so long... so long since -

A knock at the door rips us apart, startling us both out of our skin.

Shizuo is easily the first to compose himself, quickly wiping the wanton look from his face as he stands up, leaving me to get the door. For a minute, I struggle to catch my breath before leaning back into the mattress, feeling my heart pound against my palm as I clutch at my chest. All at once, the pain comes flooding back in, reminding me that I am practically lifeless with this fever.

Instead, I should be thankful for being interrupted before doing something I would undoubtedly be kicking myself for later.

Celty strides into the room with her usual ethereal elegance, producing a bottle of pills from her shadowy form. I take them with a shaky hand.

My mind wanders.

Hidden in a desk drawer is her head, forcing me to wonder if she's so lost in her love for Shinra that she cannot even sense her missing piece when it is right beneath her shadow. If so, it is just more confirmation that love is nothing but a trap, stealing everything we desire; replacing it with what is eventual brokenness as love leaves us alone.

Be it old age or young tragedies, what makes love worth having when all it does is abandon us in the end?

Snapping me out of my thoughts, I lit green screen pops into my field of vision.

I wince, unable to read the blurred symbols that she has typed.

Shizuo catches this, reading for himself. "You're dehydrated," he says before adding, "Right... I was gonna get you something to drink."

"Don't look at me like that," I warn the headless woman after the brute has exited my bedroom.

I can feel her scrutinizing stare, giving me the same warning Shinra had. Chatty bastard had undoubtedly told her something. That, or she really knows me_ that_ well.

"Don't, Celty. It isn't what you think."

But it isn't exactly what I thought it was either.

* * *

><p>"Is it just me or was Celty acting strange?" Shizuo asks me once she's gone.<p>

It took a lot to get her out the door once she figured out that things were anything but normal between Shizuo and I. Her suspicions toward me were shooting through the fucking roof.

Fortunately, the blond didn't fully understand it, even if it was obvious that something was off.

"You said the same thing about Shinra yesterday," I remind him, irritated that I still haven't been able to sleep, even with these pills infiltrating my system.

I don't want to talk about it. A discussion will only lead us into unwanted trouble, and the next thing I know, I'll be showing him how pathetic and helpless I am.

"Sleep with her, too?" he asks me, completely serious.

"Oh, yeah, Shizu-chan," I roll my eyes, scoffing, "Because headless chicks are_ totally_ my thing."

Frowning, he shakes his head, "It's hard to tell with you."

I grimace, not sure if I'm offended or just tired of this stupid day. "Sorry, I'll try to be less of a slut."

"Hmpf..."

"What?"

Childishly dropping his eyes to his feet, Shizuo shakes his head again. "You twist everything I say!"

"I've already told you it's the way you say it."

"I say things just like anyone else," he retorts.

"Try about fifty percent less eloquently," I tease, wanting him to feel insulted for insinuating that I'm some sort of floozy.

He sighs. "I'm sorry, Flea... It's already past noon, and you haven't gotten much rest..."

"Oh, so you've noticed?"

"You should go to sleep. I'll leave for a while so I don't bother you."

My heart drops in my stomach at the idea of being in my left all by myself, even if I'll be unconscious. He's probably sick of me… all of my crass comments combined with my neediness. I'd be a little fed up too…

"Ne? Shizu-chan doesn't have to leave."

"Well..._ no_..." he scratches the back of his head, "I know... but... I guess I don't want to distract you from getting better."

"Obviously, I'm in no position to stop you if you have other things to do, Shizu-chan," I tell him clandestinely, seeing if he has hidden motives which he is unwilling to share with me.

If putting words in his mouth proves to be the best method, that's exactly what I'll do.

He growls, irritated with me for the way I purposely push his buttons until sending him into overdrive.

"It's nothing like that!" he insists, "I'm just gonna go home for a little while, grab a change of clothes, and come back. Anyway, I'm all outta cigs, and-"

"Shut up," I cut him off, playful despite it all. "I'm just messing with you."

Even if I don't really want him to go…

Shizuo's face falls. "What the hell, Izaya?"

"I just like to see you flustered," I giggle, unable to contain myself.

"What? Why?"

"It's kind of cute."

Rosy pink heat rushes to his cheeks, showing that he is equal parts confused and surprised, making me wonder how anyone could possibly be intimidated by him. I bet if more women saw this side to him, he'd never have to worry about being alone again.

"Pink is a good color on you, Shizu-chan," I tell him, closing my eyes. "So cute it almost makes me want to puke... So cute that I just don't think I can hate you anymore."

Before I can hear his response, the need for sleep invades, finally stealing consciousness for the next several hours; leaving me to dream the impossible.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note:** I update because I can. :3

* * *

><p>"You're not wearing your stupid butler outfit...?"<p>

"It's not stupid," Shizuo growls, helping me out of bed before I topple over.

"Then what happened to it, ne?"

He rolls his eyes. "Nothing. Just didn't feel like wearing it on my day off."

Proud, I run my bleary eyes over his current getup, actually relieved to see nicely fitted jeans and a baseball tee of teal and white bringing out the yellow hue in his bright eyes.

"Casual is a nice look for you," I smugly tell him, leaning against him as we slowly make our way down the hall.

We stop at the stairs, which have my head spinning at the thought of going down them. Quickly reading into this, Shizuo squeezes my shoulder gently before scooping me off the floor, carrying me down the steps without affliction as he brings me close to his warmth.

"Do you ever get cold?" I wonder.

"Nah... only when it snows," he shakes his head. "Are you feeling well enough to eat?"

"Not really... not at the moment," I shrug as he places me down, helping me find balance when my feet hit the floor.

In a matter of seconds, we're back to our usual place on the couch with his hand in my hair. It isn't particularly eventful, though it is a piece of my day I look forward to. It's a routine that I wouldn't mind keeping in my daily life.

"Hey, Izaya...?" he breaks the silence as usual - another thing I don't really mind.

"Hm...?"

"Do you ever get scared?" he wonders.

I open my eyes to meet his, not meaning to give him such a concerned stare. "What kind of scared, Shizu-chan?" I ask him, immediately captivated by the question.

"I dunno... Any kind, I guess..."

"Is there something you're afraid of?"

"Yeah," he nods, "But I'm not even sure what it is, or why it's bothering me... Do... do you ever feel like that?"

Inhaling, I hold back from saying something stupid - something along the lines of, "Yes. Right now, and every time I'm near you."

Instead, I say something entirely different. "I'm terrified of dying. The possibility of there being nothing waiting for me after death... I hate that."

"Really?" he seems surprised, "But you always do such dangerous things..."

"_Did_," I correct him, mildly bitter. It's as if to say that I don't hate him, but I'm still mad at him. "The thing is, it's that danger - that rush - that makes a person feel alive."

"Is that how you stop it from getting the best of you?"

"Heh... right now I have migraines doing that. But no."

"No?" he echoes.

"Ever heard of Rene Descartes? He was something of a philosopher who developed four steps for reasoning," I explain, digging into my knowledge of humanities, which have proven nothing short of useful since becoming a full-time information dealer. "They're generally just tools for knowledge, but they've been useful for their share of problem solving."

"No idea who that is."

I smile, not at all surprised. "I use his four steps to break things down. It's a useful tool for my profession."

"What are they?"

Without hesitation, I begin to list them off. "Rule one: Never accept anything as true without solid facts. Hence why I'm an atheist. Two: Divide difficulties in question into as many categories as possible. In this case, take your fear and separate it into why you're scared, the fear itself, and what made you fear it to begin with, along with whatever other categories deem fitting. You follow?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Rule three, then. Begin with the simplest category and work step-by-step to the more complex. In other words, take the easiest bit of the conflict and go up from there. Depending on who you are, admitting that there's a problem to begin with could be either the smoothest challenge, or the hardest, to solve. But I think you've gotten a head start on it anyway."

"Really? How?" he shifts, already seeming more comfortable as I go on.

"Maybe the easiest category was confessing, while the hardest is likely to be actually facing the fear."

"Then what's step four?"

I smile at his eagerness. "Make enumerations so complete, and reviews so general, to assure nothing is omitted. After you separate the conflict into categories, make sure you handle each one until they are no longer causing you your mental affliction, or - at least - allowing it to inhibit your daily life from continuing smoothly."

"And you really use this stuff?"

"For work, I tend to go through all four steps. For everything else... I've been known to skip one and four."

"Why?"

"Because you can't really gather facts on emotions. Sure, there could be a letter or something, but most of the time... you can't really prove to anyone but yourself how you feel."

"Tch... I know that one."

"It's just logical thinking in the end, ne? I mean, nobody can really tell you how to face your fears - or when, for that matter. You do it when you're ready. Could be today, tomorrow, or even ten years from now."

Shizuo shakes his head. "No. I can't wait that long."

"Then don't."

* * *

><p>I know I'm a hypocrite; unable to follow my own advice as I offer it freely to the man I am supposed to loathe with a murderous passion (and vice versa).<p>

I told Shizuo how to face his fears when I can't even face my own, as there are things in this interesting world much more frightening than death; losing myself to another's will being one of them. Simply the thought both disgusts and terrifies me.

Descartes' four steps have only ever been useful to me because I've never had to deal with feelings like these. I've been able to block them out, deny them, destroy them if I had to. Lately, doing exactly that is becoming more difficult.

My mind is screaming at me to knock it off.

'_Remember who you are, Orihara_,' it often speaks to me. '_Don't let his heat get to your head_.'

I would argue that I haven't forgotten if it weren't for the sparks, shooting off like fireworks in my chest, every time my body came in contact with his. To think I'd almost kissed him…

And he wants to tell me that he's the one who's afraid? That incompetent brute knows nothing of fear! I was wrong to ever think so!

What happens if I lose myself to this disgusting game of lust? What happens if Shizuo wins?

I refuse to allow it. Of all people to even consider being partnered with, I am far better than to accept Heiwajima Shizuo as a lover. He isn't even remotely close to anything one might consider an intellectual, much less _this_ informant's type. I refuse to believe my standards are set so low over a trivial substance such as the heat body against my own!

I don't want this. I've never wanted this.

Affection is a trap. Love is a cage.

Well, sorry.

I'm already in one.

Currently, Shiki sits on my couch, waiting for my undivided attention while I make a payment toward Shizuo's debt; keeping my eyes narrowed as I subtract the new amount from the former. There's still a long way to go for the both of us. Shizuo owes and outrageous amount of money, while I'm still far from finding a cure.

Feeling the executive's stony eyes fixated on me, I look up from my computer screen with an unprovoked scowl on my face.

"If you keep frowning like that, you're going to look like an old man to go with your health," he says in relation to my former comment about feeling like such.

"Trust me, my migraines are going to kill me long before I have wrinkles on my face," I tell him, blinking away the anger beget by my hectic thoughts.

"Still thinking about that kiss, Orihara-san?"

"Shut up. You know nothing about it."

Standing up, he walks over to where I sit in my swivel chair. Placing his hands on either armrest, he leans in close. I immediately realize that he is lacking in the same warmth as Shizuo. Void of tremendous heat; even showing in chilled, stormy eyes.

It's a sad thought, but only backs my evidence that he was never right for me. And nobody ever should be.

"You are slipping," he tells me in a cruel tone that gives me nervous chills.

"Slipping, maybe," I give him a cold, heartless grin as I confess, "Not falling."

"Yet."

"I won't."

"It's only a matter of time, Orihara-san."

"What makes you so sure?" I sneer.

"Because you were never like this toward me. I've never once had you panicked. Or scared."

"Fear is obsolete," I lie. "Fear is death, Shiki-san."

"It does you no good to be so stubborn. I should have known that someday there would exist a man who could catch you," he chuckles calmly, "Who would have known Heiwajima-san didn't even have to put up a fight."

"I should have known not to get personal with you," I mumble. "You're misinterpreting me."

"Oh, I hardly think so. Personally, I'm glad that you're not at all impervious to human affection."

"Shizu-chan is hardly human, and is therefore unworthy of my love."

"You're the one who lets him come back. You're the one who needs him. As much as you'd like to fight it, it's not the other way around."

Pushing Shiki away from me, I stand up, sighing at his persistence. "Need and want are entirely different matters."

"Yet they go hand-in-hand."

"Why are you being so pushy about this?"

He smiles deviously, lighting a fresh cigarette. "Because I can't wait for the day to come when I get to say I proved you wrong."

Fed up with his clandestine antics, I shove a file into the executive's hands. "Everything you need is in there," I tell him, putting on a tone designed for business. "Now, with all do respect, Shiki-san, I have other matters to attend to and must ask you to make your leave."

Satisfied, having just witnessed my frustration, Shiki does just that, smiling on the way out. I'm beginning to think Akabayashi's insanity is affecting the man's stoic rationality.

Then again, I'm the moron who invited Shizuo over for dinner tonight.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:** You people are so cool. Did you know this? I come to you with an update as my thanks! :D

* * *

><p>"I brought a cake…" the blond tells me shyly as I step aside to let him in. "I picked it up when I got off work… couldn't say no."<p>

I am amused. "Oh? Thank you, Shizu-chan."

He's a bit fidgety. "I know you're not fond of sweets, but…"

Taking the white box out of his hands, I smile, leading us into the kitchen where I can place it in the refrigerator; swapping it out for a bottle of vodka. I am in desperate need of a drink given the rush in my current thoughts.

"Cake has its charm from time to time," I tell him. "It isn't as if I hate sweets or anything. It's a simple matter of staying healthy."

Shizuo gives me a strange look that makes me laugh just a little.

"Not that I'm very healthy these days, ne?"

"Well… You look good," he says, nervously scratching the back of his head.

"You think so?"

Kill them. Fucking kill the butterflies that have just taken flight in my chest. Kill them. Poison them. Burn them. Drown them. I don't fucking care. And I care even less what he thinks of me.

Stepping closer, he reaches out, placing a warm hand on my cheek. Silently cursing myself for leaning into the touch, I bravely keep my eyes on his, masking my frustration.

"You do," he smiles lightly. "Especially after that fever. You look a million times better."

"Aye… last week was cruel."

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Izaya…" he says shyly, moving on to admit, "Days when you don't need me are kinda relieving… even if spending time with you isn't as bad as I thought it'd be…"

An embarrassed hue of pink dusts is cheeks, showing his disbelief in what he has just confessed to me.

"I'm glad it isn't complete torture for you," I say, deciding not to tease him over it.

I turn back to the meal I've been preparing for the past two hours, attempting to have it done in the next twenty minutes. I'm starving, and by the way Shizuo's stomach has just growled, he is too.

"Hey, Flea…?"

"Yes?" I answer without looking up at him.

"You like hanging out with me right…? Now that we don't hate each other?"

Finding it difficult to suppress a cheerful grin, I choose to continue hiding it from his golden view. I will never let this relationship sink into something so stupid as love; however, I will not deny the value of friendship freely offered.

This is dinner between friends. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"I do," I nod, pouring a generous amount of vodka into a glass, and some more into the sauce simmering in a pan.

"Good," Shizuo returns in a hopeful tone, "Cause… I like hanging out with you too."

Pushing away all thoughts of Heiwajima Shizuo being anything remotely close to cute, much less endearing, I stir the copious amount of vodka in with the sizzling marinara sauce. Focusing on my culinary skills is infinitely better than thinking about love and Shizuo -_ together_.

"Anything I can do to help?" he queries, standing closer behind me than he was several seconds ago.

Quickly glancing around the kitchen, I search for something - anything - to keep him busy instead of close to me.

"Sure," I nod, reaching over the counter with my free hand to pick up a cheese grater and a brick of parmesan. "And when you're done, cut that bacon into chunks too."

For a minute, I feel his eyes watching me observantly before I glance up to meet them.

"What?" I ask in all seriousness.

His expression is bringing Shiki's recent words to life in my recent memory. I inwardly gag, silently reminding myself that I will prove that yakuza bastard wrong, even if it kills me. I am not falling for this blond and those beautiful eyes. I won't.

"You just look…" Shizuo trails off, searching for the right term.

"Busy?" I tease.

"No! Well… that too! But… I dunno. You look intense."

"Intense?" I echo, a bit taken aback.

"Yeah! You know…"

"No, I don't," I shake my head, setting my wooden spoon on the counter before I check the noodles.

His tiny smile breaks into a full-fledged grin. "You remind me of an artist," he says happily, "Like you're painting your masterpiece."

Turning away is all I can do to hide the ferocious shades of red showing on my face.

"I haven't cooked since falling ill," I tell him, keeping hidden, "I'd like to make sure it's perfect tonight. I need t know that I'm still capable. That's all…"

"It will be," Shizuo assures me, slyly taking me by the wrist.

Gasping, I don't fight him as he twirls me around, pushing my back against the counter; those eyes searching me for answers. Answers which lack questions.

We are exactly where we were a week ago, pressed against each other, about to do something stupid. Only this time, we are entirely without interruption…

Or so I thought…

The timer beeps, releasing a shrill noise into the tense air which immediately aggravates my head.

"Fuck," I hiss, choking back my surprise as I slip out the blond's arms.

Grabbing the tiny device, I turn it off as quickly as possible; carelessly banishing it to a miscellaneous location in the kitchen before motioning to cradle my head in my head as a dull throb awakens. I hope I smashed the thing.

"Shit," I curse again, pulling myself together to pull the chicken out of the oven before it burns.

"I-Izaya? Are you okay?"

"Fine…" I mumble, focusing on anything but the pain. "I wasn't thinking… Agh…"

I really hadn't been. My mind has been too fucked up lately to pay attention to anything. The important things. The unimportant. It all just cycles back to the same thoughts, causing me to draw blanks at the wrong times; essentially screwing myself over in the end. My head is a mess, like a hoarder's garage.

All of the caution and well-planned motives I used to have are gone, buried beneath layers of meaningless junk for thoughts. I'm forgetting them like yesterday's weather.

"You're hurting…?"

"I'll be alright," I insist, downing the rest of my drink in one swift gulp; hoping the alcohol can at least dull the future migraine. "Let's not allow this to ruin our night, ne?"

"No… of course not," Shizuo remains skeptical, eyeing me warily as I fight through the upcoming agony.

I ignore it, thinking it better to carry on with the meal I've invested my time in. I won't let tonight be destroyed. I won't. I've felt so good today, if not a bit irritated, and I don't want this to go to waste. Whatever it may take, I'll put this affliction back to sleep. I won't keep losing, no matter how nice it would be to just throw in the towel.

But… just to be on the safe side…

Turning back to finish what's left of the cooking, I am not at all surprised to feel a pair of Ikebukuro's strongest arms tighten protectively around my waist. Shizuo presses his chest into my back, using his heat to prevent what is sure to come. Putting it off is all I can hope for right now. It's as if he is protecting me; shielding me from a destructive monster that is determined to eat me alive.

"Don't get sick again," he pleas, like I can do anything to prevent it by myself. We both know I've already tried absolutely everything. "Don't… I can't stand to see you hurting anymore. I can't stand to see you in pain…"

There's a desperation in his voice I've never heard before, knowing it's out of my control; taking my body by storm. These migraines, like a vengeful tempests, are difficult to sway. Each one only weakens me more than the one before it, breaking me down, even in the eyes of the former enemy.

"A month and a half ago, you'd be trying to put me in such a state," I sigh, wishing to go back to the past for various reasons.

Which part of my past I want to go back to still remains something of a mystery, but the past nevertheless.

"That was then," he mumbles apologetically. "This is now."


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** AAAH! You guys are killing me. xD

Your comments are so great! I lovelovelove reading what you have to say. :D

Thank you!

* * *

><p>When the throbbing dies down, I remind myself how fortunate I am to have Shizuo here to save me. It seems pathetic, being the self-controlled person that I am.<p>

Having grown used to living life by my own rules, with no inhibitions, it's difficult... forcing myself to become accustomed to handing my life over to somebody else while my body faces one breakdown after another. There is nothing redeeming about it. Life is miserable when you're trapped - no matter who, or what, is trapping it.

I don't think the term "free-spirited" would exist were it not for living up to its definition. Just like any animal, it's human design to desire a life without limitations. Of course, there are certain rules to follow, such as those we would categorize into morals (albeit, mine may be skewed), and laws which modern civilization must go by. Whether or not I break any isn't the point… I guess it's what I would consider a rough outline to help humans lead their existences as individuals.

We only get one shot, right?

Well this is mine…

And I don't think I could survive were it to be taken from me permanently.

So maybe I can admit to being a little dependent for the time being.

But I fucking swear it won't last. After all, I am Orihara Izaya. I am better than to let this get the best of me.

"What are you thinking about?"

Glancing up at Shizuo, I plaster a smile on my face, burying my contemplation beneath it. "More than I should be."

"Don't," he says in almost a commanding tone, blanketing me in heat as his hot breath sails over my skin.

"Then what would you have me do, Shizu-chan?"

"I don't care. Just don't let it hurt you anymore."

I sigh. "I thought you were supposed to protect me from it."

"I'm trying…" he says with honest eyes, "But what if I'm not strong enough?"

"What are you talking about?" I feel my smile fade, "You're the strongest man in Tokyo."

"More like the biggest idiot in Tokyo," he grumbles, breaking the lock between gazes.

"Well… that too…" I feel like it may be a good time to tease him, "However, you're _my_ idiot."

The word choice startles Shizuo, forcing me to cover as quickly as possible with a fresh smirk.

"I'm paying you, aren't I?"

"_Izaya_…" his frown deepens.

He still isn't buying it. So, it's all I can do to banish some pride for his sake. It is not in my plans to make this emotional train wreck of a man feel like a cheap prostitute on Santa Monica Boulevard.

Physically, he's flawless. Perfectly strong beneath his thin, toned exterior. Sentimentally, he's delicate; something of a wilting flower clinging to summer's warmth whilst facing the chill of winter.

He's something I would consider poetic in his own, unearthly way. Something worth observing.

"Don't forget, Shizu-chan," I say, gently changing my tone, "I picked you for a reason."

"I know… I… I think I know what I'm so afraid of…"

"_Oh?_"

Closing his eyes, he nods, attempting to clear his thoughts enough to say what is truly weighing on his mind. In a way, I feel a little guilty. I've been so focused on my own screwed up fears that I've practically abandoned all thoughts of his own - even knowing that he would come to me for answers. Because… isn't this all about us anyway?

"I'm afraid of failing…" he confesses. "I've never been too good at anything but beating people up and getting pissed off. But with you… it's different. With you, I know I'm doing something - for once - that doesn't hurt someone else. I don't wanna mess that up."

Sincerity in soft eyes blows me away for a few seconds. I nod, attempting to keep my smile. But I understand. There's more surrounding this fear than he's letting on, or possibly even aware of.

"Then I would say it's time for step three, ne?" I advise him.

"Now...?" he skeptically wonders.

"No, idiot. After we eat."

* * *

><p>As we sit down at the table, and begin to enjoy our meal, I make a silent promise to myself that I will not let him fail. Determining whether or not I can keep it is an entirely different matter at hand.<p>

"So what did you think, Shizu-chan?" I ask as I begin to clear the kitchen table of dishes, which I'll pile at the sink for now, because I'm not in the mood to wash them.

Or I could just call Namie... Actually. No. That's a terrible idea.

"It was good... awesome. Never eaten anything like it before..." he answers with a positive nod.

"That's probably because you're afraid to venture outside of your tiny, cultural box to try new things. So you've never gone beyond traditional Japanese dishes and sugary desserts."

"Hey!" Shizuo weakly protests, "That's not entirely true!"

"McDonald's, pizza, Chinese takeout and gas station burritos most certainly do not count," I playfully scold him, trying not to throw up in my mouth at the thought of eating that garbage.

"Then what is it?" he dangerously chooses to argue.

"Bachelor food. Unrefined, unhealthy concoctions both marketed and designed for the single man. And not just in Tokyo. It's a global phenomenon responsible for making Americans overweight… stereotypically speaking, that is."

Lacking retort, Shizuo wipes the stun from his face. "So what about you?" he tries to stay strong in the cruel face of debate. "You're a single guy."

"I've beaten the system."

"How?"

_Dating humanity_ is a tempting answer. Alas...

"By cancelling out all of the infatuations that most humans get caught up in; replacing them with fascinations of my own - such as the reasons why people are so intrigued by such basic, trivial things."

"Bull shit!" he scoffs.

"It's true! What kind of expert on humanity would I be if I couldn't set higher standards for myself? I am not prone to fall in the same traps as regular human beings."

"And I am?" he smiles, silently deciding to help me clean up our mess.

"You're easily influenced by societal traps, yes - if that's what you're asking."

Amused, I watch his face fall into confusion as he tries to decide if he should feel mocked by such a statement.

It may be better for me to clear the air.

"Only with little things," I coolly explain. "Such as junk food and kittens. However, when it comes to right versus wrong, even though you can't always hold back your anger, your morals are higher than most, and you do what you can to make amends for your less-than-civil actions. Not because you necessarily care what anyone thinks of you, but because of what you think of yourself."

Taking my words into consideration, Shizuo goes quiet, making sure to understand all that I've told him so that he can use a thought process similar to Descartes' method in order to determine the truth in my explanation.

"How'd you figure all that out?" he asks, giving me a particular look that gives me a rush of confidence.

"Before really getting to know you over the past two months, I truthfully didn't know much of anything about you. Remember when I asked you why you hated me?"

"Sure. Been thinking about it ever since."

"Me too," I say, feeling a strange sense of relief that I'm not the only one. "Anyway... it's my profession to know everything I can about everyone I come into contact with. It seems I've learned that I never really knew you to begin with."

"So... is that why you can't fall in love...?"

Shizuo springs the question on me long before I could have possibly seen it coming; still managing to surprise me despite the lacking hostility between us. I had nearly forgotten that wild animals are truly unpredictable creatures.

"With who?" I warily eye him.

"Dunno," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Anyone."

"I already told you, Shizuo. It's not that I _can't_. It's that I don't _want_ to. Consider it part of beating the system."

"Is that _really_ what it is?"

"Yes," I insist. "It's my choice not to take on a romantic relationship, just as it is my decision whether or not to eat like a twelve-year-old with a mad sweet tooth, or a responsible, health-conscious adult."

"But what if it was somebody's choice to make you love them?"

I laugh, shaking my head at the prospect. "You're thinking too hard about this now."

"Am I? Izaya, think about it. You don't think it's possible?" he is persistent in having me see his point. I don't recall a time of ever seeing him so serious without a decent amount of rage behind it.

"I don't think it's impossible," I rephrase. "I think it's highly, _highly_ improbable."

Once again, I hear Shiki's voice echoing through my thoughts telling my otherwise. There is always something in this messed up little head of mine determined to make me doubt myself.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:** *SIIIIIGH* I always go through this, and it never stops bothering me. So let me explain something.

When I write a story, namely_ fan fiction_, I do not expect to stay fully in-character. I love writing Shizaya fanfics, but this is the one thing that I believe nobody can master. Of course, who is to say that Shizuo and Izaya wouldn't act a specific way toward each other if they felt something other than hate? That said, just about every story we fan fiction writers write is an AU-genre of story telling. My Shizuo and Izaya are NOT fully in character. And I could never compete with Narita's amazing skill of writing them the way he does. I won't even try, no matter how much I love these characters. My writing is far from perfect.

Now, I guess there are some people who are bothered by the way I've characterized them for this story.

Allow me to be frank. I do a lot of research. More than I should. And I've spent enough time getting to know people of all varieties. The thing about human beings is that they're all different, and while, yes, they are generally predictable, they still hold an element of surprise. For instance, some people, are born with a certain seductive quality about them that they, themselves, don't realize exists. Just because somebody is a virgin doesn't mean they're not born with a natural talent or the courage to do something a little crazy. Sometimes, love twists us in the strangest of ways.

I just want to say this... because, I guess, I want you guys to know that I know what I'm doing. And if there's something you don't like you should be warned that this story is already written. What you read is what you get. I can't change the story now, especially not over tiny inaccuracies that really aren't inaccurate from a fan fiction writer's point of view.

* * *

><p>"Why do you care so much, Shizuo...?" I have to wonder aloud.<p>

The blond falls into the couch, appearing somewhat disgruntled before me. His thoughts are uncontrollably complicated.

"Dunno… just do." Shrugging, he tries not necessarily to switch subjects, but to drop this one.

I won't allow it. My curiosity can't handle secrecy like this.

"Tell me," I say, softly making my demands. Softly to keep from startling the unpredictable animal that sleeps beneath the surface of the Shizuo I've come to know, and possibly_ respect_, since he signed up for this unnatural insanity.

Light red sweeps across his cheeks, reaching up to gently burn his ears. "Just forget it, okay?"

"Have you any idea who you're talking to?" I chuckle mischievously, masking my discomfort.

A few moments of tense silence pass between us as I watch him, searching his eyes for the unspoken answers until neither of us can take it anymore. He looks away from me, trying to pretend he's talking to the floor rather than his former enemy. It hits me that the entire concept of getting along with Shizuo is a truly terrifying thing; so I can understand his apprehension piled on top of the issue that Shizuo has never been the best with words.

"I don't want you to be alone..." he mumbles sincerely, sounding legitimately miserable as he speaks. "Suffering by yourself…"

"What makes you think I'm alone?" I say with a faulty smile; not at all denying that I am, in fact, suffering.

Is it that obvious though? Everyone around me seems to think so… even if I can't make myself believe it. I don't want to believe it.

The change in his eyes speaks in volumes. He sees straight through it. "You picked_ me_… even though you hated me. Like, outta everyone…"

My heart is racing; yet I keep myself calm, knowing that I can't give myself away. I can't give into fear or panic. "We've been over this before, Shizu-chan. I picked you because I didn't have a lot of time, and I knew you'd be effective."

"Well… what about your past lovers…?"

There's a tone he takes on in these words that almost hurt, like a dull punch to the chest. It takes all that I have not to let it show on my face.

I knew it. He thinks I'm a whore, only adding weight to Shinra's words. Is the universe trying to make a point?

"Why do you think they're in the past?" I smirk, burying the feelings and folding my arms as I take a seat beside him.

I really feel like a filthy mess now, thinking about all of the relationships I've been in - none of which were innocent - while I sit beside the most innocent man I've ever met.

"It's where they belong. Besides, I thought you said you don't regret this."

I'll say anything to make myself feel better…

Startled by my forward reminder, Shizuo jolts in his seat; putting on that same guilty face he always wears when it appears he has been caught for a terrible crime. "I don't!"

Well, that's good news, I suppose.

"So what's there to worry about? More than your fear, that is."

Nervously, he scratches his blond head. "Dunno... maybe it's part of the same fear..."

"There's a hypothesis," I agree, considering it a perfectly logical explanation - one I wish I didn't know I was a part of.

Leaning my head on his shoulder, I gladly absorb is ever-present warmth with a strained sigh.

"You doing alright?" he asks, burying his fingers in my hair.

"You saved me right on time," I say with a small smile, "I'm okay. Just tired."

"Good… that's good."

And for some odd reason… I feel… ridiculously impulsive.

"Hey… Shizu-chan?" I hold his attention, slowly sitting up; carefully balancing myself on my knees.

He gives me a nervous look, swallowing a lump in his throat when our eyes align. They're swimming with his undefined fear, controlled by the absolute need to understand. Both of us are hoping to find what we're looking for.

I need a cure. He needs to face his fears. But neither of us seems to want to use the other, making us skittish; worried that we're going to destroy everything with the wrong words at the wrong time.

And now, I feel this desperate, random fucking need to know if he is more than just medication.

Without warning to either of us, I inch closer before slowly moving myself on top of the blond, straddling him much to our unanimous incredulity. Silently cursing myself, I can't force my body to stop moving as I press into him, taking his heat for my own as I watch him, only praying he can see in my eyes that I have no idea what I'm doing other than reacting to… whatever the hell this is.

However, I am given no time to apologize for this - feeling like I'm a marionette cursed by controlling strings - before his hands find my hips.

Still, it remains clear.

Shizuo is just as lost as I am.

"Shizu-chan…" I questioningly whisper through the darkness; somehow only just realizing that the room is softly illuminated by the city lights that pour through the window, rather than the bulbs in the ceiling, or the lamps in their proper places.

Anywhere it can reach, his heat absorbs into my blood, like water to a sponge. The only difference being that sponge has never looked so wantonly at anything, and here I am with the heinous desire to do something stupid.

Stupid - full of repercussions. Empty of regrets.

This is not okay. It's just too difficult to care. Too much trouble when the only thing telling me it's wrong is a meek voice uselessly screaming in the back of my fragile head.

So it's true that I do not hate Heiwajima Shizuo as I once did…

I'm making a foolish mistake…

Without another word, I ask him with my eyes, receiving a small, hesitant nod as a confirmation.

Pressing my forehead against his, I tell myself that he will never be like the others. That it's just this once. That I'm doing it to get even for the first one. That you cannot hurt what cannot be broken. That this can happen, but it does not mean we're in love. It does not mean that _Orihara Izaya_ is in love.

I'm a renown flirt. And maybe it seems a bit odd, but I find no shame in using the people around me to get what I want. _Insatiable_ as I may be, my skipping around from relationship to relationship has always been handled with the utmost precision and delicacy.

Shizuo, who I refuse to let be a repeat of the past, is facing the same process.

Fortunately for the blond, I'm willing to bet my very life on not turning him into another toy, even though I've been playing with him for all of these years.

Shinra's threatening words - his warnings - are useless to me. I know what I'm doing.

I can control myself.

Denying it all, I inhale as smoothly as my nervous trembling will allow, slide my eyes shut, and pick up where we've been interrupted twice already.

If anything, it's a desperate act to get it out of the way once and for all, so I make it just as light, and just as delicate as the one he gave me, only to surprise myself when it is not nearly enough.

Pressing my lips carefully into Shizuo's, I find that they are that much softer here than ghosting across my cheek; begging me to deepen the sensation. So I do, fully wondering why the blond hasn't shoved me away yet, especially when the touch spreads like a fucking wild fire through my nerves. Can he feel his flames sinking into me; scorching my nervous system?

Sensing my longing for more, he opens his mouth just enough, granting me entrance into the sweet, wet cave that is his mouth. Greeting me with his own waiting tongue, he flicks the tip over mine, eliciting a soft, embarrassing mewl from my end. The heat infiltrating my boundaries as they melt away rushes to my cheeks.

I stay brave by closing my eyes and continuing to kiss him back.

From what I_ know_, this is his first time. From what I_ feel_ I never would have suspected it on my own.

This man has a God given talent unlike anything I've ever experienced before, sending a sensation akin to electric shock into my mouth to be swallowed and absorbed into the rest of my body. It's affecting me everywhere.

Pressing my hands on his chest, I unwillingly tug myself away from the sensation until I lose what's left of my mind to it.

He stares at me in a stunned silence, begging for explanation. A horrible blend of hurt, confusion, and lust swirl in his perfect amber eyes.

So I do what I always do. I cover with a forced clandestine grin that makes me seem all the more despicable.

"Now we're even," I tell him, moving back to my place on the couch.

"_Even_?" is the only word he can squeak out.

"For the first one. What's wrong, Shizu-chan? Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

He opens and closes his mouth several times, vacant on the proper words at first. "I-it's not that," he stutters, "I just… Never kissed anyone before…"

"First time for everything, ne?" I smirk with falsified pride.

"Yeah…"

"I want to go to bed," I brush off the incident, outwardly appearing as if it never happened. Inside, I'm freaking out trying to figure out what it is that I've just done. "Do you want to stay over again?"

He nods, both of us entirely forgetting about the cake.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author Anon**: YOU GUYYYYYSSSS. OH EM GEE. Your comments are all so wonderful. I giggled reading through most of them! I'm so glad you like this! Thank you!

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><p>Tucked comfortably between the sheets and Shizuo's warm body, I bury myself deeper into the soothing heat; feeling anything but awkward as he drapes his long arm around my waist. After all, why should it feel wrong?<p>

It was only a simple kiss.

And kisses can mean a myriad of things… can't they? Why should it bother me?

"If I could always be this warm, the migraines would surely be obsolete," I mumble, breaking the silence in the sleepy darkness.

"They will be," he whispers back, sending light shivers down my spine as his heated breath ghosts over my neck.

Pushing myself up against him, he takes the opportunity to graze his lips over several notches of my upper spine. The sensation is near maddening, threatening to reignite dormant feelings buried deep within me.

I cannot tell him no after kissing him so frivolously just twenty minutes ago. I'm making one excuse after another, reaching my limit for the day.

Suppressing the onslaught of desire which can only be described as animalistic impulsiveness, I suck in a deep breath, filling my lungs with comforting air before I forget to breathe altogether. Yet, at the same time, I know a simple friendship should never feel quite like this, especially when he tugs me even closer than I already thought possible to his amazing warmth.

How is it possible to be so radiant in the darkness? Hot like summer, but a cool breath of fresh, autumn air.

I hate myself for beginning to believe that I could honestly get used to this, or that I might even consider it some sick, twisted version of cuddling. I'll even go as far as to say that I'm tempted to destroy it all by reaching for my switchblade, sitting lonely on the bedside table, and stabbing him with it. Just to kill the heat in time to prevent it from coursing through my chest; melting down the walls I've built up for a purpose.

Shizuo is unknowingly destroying all that I've worked so fucking hard to create for myself, taking me down at the perfect moment.

Although blurred by uncertainty, the "big picture," as some may call it, is becoming clearer by the day; forcing me to understand what I don't at all want to accept.

Shizuo's fears...

Mine...

The first kiss and the second.

All of_ this_.

It's only a matter of time before I do fall, just like Shiki said. And I am powerless to stop it, too weak to push it all away. Too needy to let it go.

* * *

><p>Feeling like Ikebukuro is probably lost without my presence, I step into the streets wondering what interesting discoveries I could possibly make today. It's just as well that I wonder what developments have been made without me!<p>

Thanks to Shizuo, today is a relatively good day worth taking advantage of.

The weather forecast said it should rain later in the afternoon as a low pressure system moves in from the west. Usually, the density would push down on my body, begetting another relentless migraine. However, I've gotten lucky; therefore, it is time to have some fun.

Casually making my way through the familiar scene with a hot black coffee in one hand, and my other hand stuffed in my pocket; wrapped around my cell phone, I absorb the curious looks of strangers. I read them instantaneously, able to comprehend the curious looks on their forgettable faces.

What? This isn't what you were expecting?

If nothing else, the stares are an ego boost. Acknowledgement that I'm still in power over this supernatural spot of Tokyo.

"Orihara Izaya?" they whisper to each other as I pass.

I am!

"What? _Seriously_!"

Yes.

"He's back?"

Indeed. Miss me?

"No way! I heard he was dead!"

Dead? No. Very much alive for once!

"I was told he was in prison for fraud."

I'm sorry…_ what_?

"My co-worker said his wife saw Orihara-san at the hospital. Got diagnosed with cancer."

Well there's an idea.

"He probably just got what's his," somebody within the lively spread of conversation scoffs, "Who cares what it really was. So what if he's sick or dying? He deserves it."

I freeze, silencing the talk.

Those words have me narrowing my eyes at my surroundings while I leave them intentionally unfocused on anything in particular. So many mixed feelings float around, whirring past my ears if only to be forgotten. However, that comment…

That has me on edge.

I don't need to hear that I deserve this. I don't need to be plagued with these thoughts any more than I already have been. The reminder is unnecessary, dampening the warm welcoming I was hoping to receive.

As much as I love humans, they can be incredibly stupid. Not realizing how fortunate they are to have me back… They couldn't_ honestly_ think I'd leave them forever, could they? They belong to me, as they are the epicenter of my immortal love.

Enough of this.

No matter where I go, I feel their eyes on me. I hear their talk. And to sum it all up, it really isn't what I was hoping for. Quite the opposite the way they seem so mixed up. Do they want me back or not? Some aren't sure, while others seem disappointed; all warily observing my next move until I'm out of their line of sight.

Suddenly, my phone rings, startling me as I pass through a crosswalk.

Fumbling with the phone for a minute, I roll my eyes before forcing myself into another act. "Shiki-san, I wasn't expecting a call," I coo, smiling against the mouthpiece.

"I thought I would check up on things," he coolly returns, "Assuming you're still upset with me for yesterday."

My mood definitely darkens at the mention. But I don't let him know. "It's nothing," I lie through my smile, "I've already forgotten about it."

Oh, fuck. If only. Shiki knows me better than this…

"Good. Then I don't suppose you would mind a job if you're in Ikebukuro this morning?"

"How did you know?" I legitimately smirk this time.

"Shinra has some information," he begins his instructions, ignoring what may or may not be a rhetorical question. "Can you handle it?"

Snickering, I wonder if this man has forgotten who he is speaking to. "Should be simple enough."

But really?

Is it ever?


	30. Chapter 30

Author's Note: Good morning! I just woke up, and typing is soooo difficult!

As always, thank you SO much for reviews and favorites. It means a lot to me. :3

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><p>"What did I tell you, Izaya?" Shinra interrogates me with cold gray eyes the very second he opens his front door to see me.<p>

"Tell me about what, precisely?" I smirk, stepping inside without invitation. "At the rate you run your mouth it's hard to keep up sometimes."

Practically slamming the door behind us, he follows me into his living room. "Izaya, you know _exactly_ what I mean."

"Ne? Refresh my memory."

"I told you not to hurt him," the doctor continues to berate me, un-withholding in his anger.

It's rare to see Shinra act this way. I must say it is intriguing; tempting me to provoke the ire into a stronger, more out-of-character enragement. We could call it an experiment and see how similar his ire is to Shizuo's. Fortunately for the doctor, I hold back as best I can, making the decision to keep this conversation as honest as I can.

I'm here on business; not to dive into the complexities of my love life.

His scrutinizing eyes are met with mine, quickly reminding him how much colder I can be.

I won't put up with these accusations.

"Who said I have...?"

"What you're doing to Shizuo is wrong," he continues to argue, "It was wrong from the beginning and you're making it worse."

"And what, exactly, am I doing to him, Shinra?"

"Oh, I don't know! _Using him_? As if he's just another one of your play things!"

Excuse me?

"He isn't a toy. He's the one who makes it possible for me to make it from one day to the next," I hiss, suddenly defensive. "If anything, it's better than it was! So excuse me for keeping him around, but he works better than any of your shitty pills."

"How?" he leers. "He told Celty everything. You should have known he would."

"I don't care," I retort, not the least bit surprised.

I suspected as much from the beginning of this addictive disaster.

"You really are shameless, aren't you, Izaya?" Shinra scoffs, refusing to back down by any means. "What does he even mean to you? This won't last, and when it fails, what are you going to do? Kick him out of your life and force everything to go back to normal?"

"What...?"

"At the rate you're going, you may as well slit his throat while he's asleep in your bed."

"It isn't like that," I snap. "Shizuo isn't like that."

"Not like what? Like everyone else you screw around with? You're confusing him."

I laugh snidely, almost unable to believe this is happening. "Really, Shinra? That just goes to show how little you know about any of this. He is exactly where he wants to be, and getting paid for it."

"Oh, so you're treating him like some sort of-"

"Don't you dare say it," I cut him off, hoping he knows I'm still a force to be reckoned with. "It isn't like that. At all."

At the moment, I'm trying to figure out what I'm defending here. Myself... or Shizuo...

"Then what is it? Because what you're doing... is crazy. Unhealthy!"

"We're just friends, alright?"

"No," the doctor disagrees, shaking his head adamantly, "Friends don't make out with each other and share a bed three nights a week."

"Twice," I correct him. "We've slept together twice in the past two weeks. And that's all it was. Personally, I'm appalled that you would make such accusations. I thought you knew us better than this, Shinra."

"So did I. At least you. I can't necessarily blame Shizuo for falling into your traps. After all, I've been in his shoes before."

"No you haven't. He isn't anything like you."

"Then who, Izaya? Is it Shiki-san? Namie? What about that Kida kid?"

"Wrong on all accounts, idiot. And you know damn well how long I was with Shiki."

"Until he told you he loved you? Don't forget that I also know how many times you cheated on him. Or that one of those times was with Akabayashi-san."

I admit, these words have a venom in them that burns as they seep into my skin. Shinra has a right to be wary, as both Shizuo's friend and my first relationship. He knows me well. He knows all of the wretched things I've done, and of all the people I've used for my personal gain. He also knows that I wouldn't hesitate to do it again if it came with the right reward.

What he does not understand is that Shizuo will not end up like all the others. That much I can promise.

"He knows what I'm like, Shinra," I say, drawing my voice back into a serious, controlled calm.

"Elaborate."

"He knows where I stand on relationships."

"Then why are you doing this?"

I shrug. "It just… happened. Impulse…"

"I thought Namie 'just happened.' Hell, even I 'just happened.'"

"This is different. In infinite ways different."

"How am I supposed to believe that?"

"I don't know. I don't care, either. Whether you believe it or not means nothing to me. What matters is that Shizuo knows it, and I know it."

"Fine, but I swear, Izaya," the underground physician's tone grows disturbingly threatening, "If you do hurt him, you won't appreciate the consequences. And I will not be here to save your ass."

I nod, finally able to agree with something he tells me. "I don't doubt that."

* * *

><p>I leave Shinra's apartment shortly after retrieving some information on all of the gunshot wound patients he has had over the past two months. Shiki is pretty sure that one of them is responsible for heavy drug trades within the clubs Akabayashi manages. A former Awakusu-kai subordinate who went rogue for a few thousand yen, only to receive a few bullets rather than his cash. Nobody has seen him since.<p>

These are the jobs that make dealing information so interesting.

This is what I miss most. The indefinable rush of taking something bigger than myself and bending it to my will.

Unfortunately, my argument with the doctor has put something of a damper on my overall mood. Something in his words is getting under my skin. Making me feel guilty for things I haven't done; crimes I haven't committed.

I feel like I knew going there would be a bad idea, but I ignored all of the warning signs in my head in order to play it cool for Shiki.

"IZAYA!" I hear my name as it is called from across the street.

Locating the source as he crosses the street, I can't help but awkwardly smile at Shizuo as he catches up to me, leaving his employer - Tom - in a moment of stun. The blond does not sound the least bit angry as he announces my name, earning conspicuous stares from the surrounding crowd.

Worried for what could come out of this, I bury my hand in my pocket, getting a grasp on my switchblade. If I have to, I will use it.

He and I have never discussed publicizing our new relationship. I'm pretty sure most of Ikebukuro presumed I had either moved on or died until I stepped into the streets this morning. The stares and whispers have significantly calmed since then, only to be resurrected with this strange new attitude from they city's strongest man.

"Can I help you, Shizu-chan?" I say, sounding on edge as I plead with my eyes for him to go with it.

"What are you doing in 'Bukuro?" he says too casually, if not confused.

"Working," I tell him, trying to sound just as surprised by his nonchalance as the crowd surrounding us. "I don't have time to play right now."

"Who said anything about that?" he asks, frowning.

Glancing around, I sigh, warily watching the reactions in this sea of faces. I can't tell who's more terrified. Me or them.

"Shizu-chan, what are you doing?" I wonder, trying to get him to read my eyes.

Damn it, if he's not going to pay attention... I can only hope some belligerent force of nature saves me. An earthquake. A hurricane. Fuck! I'd take an eruption from Mount Fuji!

"Trying to talk to you," he answers, subconsciously stubborn. "Didn't think you were strong enough to come back yet…"

I cover the pain in my chest with a disgustingly fraudulent snicker. "I don't know what you're talking about, Shizu-chan," I hide behind an equally faux smirk. "I'm just trying to work. Busy day today. You might want to do the same, ne?"

I nod in the direction of Tom, who lights a cigarette as he prepares for a showdown that isn't going to happen.

Words that would usually enrage this blond beast before me have him anxiously confused; trying to understand what would be a terrible time to voice. My heart has never beat so hard that it hurt until this very moment.

The speed only increases when Celty slides into view on her motorcycle, silencing the audience.

Physically and mentally, I'm not strong enough to fight Shizuo; nor do I want to. When I look to the headless woman for help she nods her helmet once and takes off, shredding my hope.

A few silent seconds, thick with tension pass, only to startle me with the ringing of my cell phone. Nearly choking on air, I pull it out of my pocket to see my hope quickly restored.

I take the call, keeping my telling eyes on Shizuo. "Good afternoon," I answer the silence on the other line.

I stay silent for a few seconds, pretending to listen to a responding voice. When the time feels right, I continue my one-sided conversation with my nervousness held back.

"Send him my apologies. I'm not home at the moment."

A little more silence.

"Shizu-chan, ne? Come see me when you're off work. We can discuss it then."

Ending the call, I watch realization dawn on him behind his blue-colored shades.

"Anyway, where were we?" I ask the rhetorical question. "Oh yes. Sorry to cut this short, I have clients waiting. I wouldn't expect a protozoan like you to understand. Though, I'd appreciate it if you refrained from bludgeoning me with a street sign today."

The words which were once so easily spoken are difficult to speak, even though it's all improv. An act. And so it is with a heavy burden on my heart that I keep my smile on as I turn around and run.

Shizuo doesn't follow.


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note:** I hate when things are going great, and then my confidence takes a nosedive. Sometimes, I wonder if I might be bipolar...

Anyway! I won't keep you waiting from this with my boring note. Thank you so much! :D

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><p>"You should have told me," he says, leaning against the frame of my bedroom door; a strange, new look prancing in his saffron eyes as I change my shirt.<p>

"Quite realistically, I hadn't thought about it," I breathe.

"No?"

I shake my head. "One becomes so used to living one way that they forget who they were previously. I've been walled up in this apartment, sick for so long, that I didn't think much about being seen, much less being seen with you."

"Does it make you nervous?"

I freeze before slowly tugging the fabric of my fresh shirt over my torso. Shizuo pockets his sunglasses and crosses his arms one over the other. There's a seriousness about him which claims I cannot weasel my way out of this question. He wants to know, and he won't stand for a lie.

"It does," I confess, keeping my face void of any emotion that may give my deepest fears away.

"Why?"

Of course he wants an explanation.

"Tokyo is a strange place, ne?" I half smile, "Ikebukuro, let's be frank, doesn't make any sense. I mean, look at it. With characters like me, you, Celty, and even Dollars running around, you can't trust anybody."

"We're in Dollars," he reminds me.

"We're the two most feared figures in Ikebukuro, Shizu-chan," I say, almost as if I were scolding him. He shrinks back a bit, slightly averting his gaze which has been so insistent on not offering me any privacy until this moment. "The strongest. Well… I _was_… you get the point, don't you?"

"I guess…" he mutters, scratching the back of his head, sending his disheveled tresses into further disarray.

"We aren't who we used to be… and I'm too weak to defend us."

His eyes suddenly snap back to mine, giving me a start. "I don't need you to defend me!"

"Why? Because you're so strong?"

"W-well, yeah!"

"Shizu-chan, your strength can only take you so far. If somebody wanted to destroy you, you should know by now that human beings do have the capability to twist words in just the right fashion to do so. I've done it to you many times, albeit not at the level I could have. As much as I hated you, I've done worse things to other people simply for my own amusement."

"I think I understand," he says in a melancholy tone.

Pacing over to my bedroom window, I lean my head against the glass as I peer out into the city below, where I see countless humans hurriedly making their way to some unknown place by some unknown time. The Shinjuku crowd is always bustling while it lacks the same mysteriousness as our neighboring home of Ikebukuro.

The abrupt change is almost bone-chilling.

"We're like wild animals in Ikebukuro," I try to smile, reflecting on the dozens of death matches between us. "You can't trust a wild animal. Ever. No matter how relaxed they may appear, they have a tendency to snap, becoming violent and dangerous."

"That's just me," he disagrees.

I just can't see his point.

"Hm… maybe. Or perhaps it is everybody. How do you think they'd respond to see the city's two greatest predators like this…? Would they be more afraid, or would they use it against us? I can't tell, and that bothers me."

"But I wouldn't let them touch you. Not until you're well again. Then you can take 'em on your own."

Every time he says these things, I wish he would stop. He thinks he has a better grasp of this situation than he truly does.

"I hear the talk, you know?"

"Talk…?"

"Online, through my small jobs, and even from the short visits to the streets."

"What about them?" he asks, stepping up beside me.

Judging by the darkened sky, it is sure to rain soon. I welcome the downpour.

"They know," I whisper, pulling back from the view, mildly disgusted with the humans below me, just as well as myself. "Whether or not there is truth to each individual rumor, they know something is wrong with Orihara Izaya. 'Is it cancer? Is he on drugs? Was he finally raped? I heard he was mauled by yakuza.' The list goes on."

Flabbergasted, Shizuo looks at me, unable to conceal his disbelief. "They really think those things?"

"They don't know what they think. All they know is that I am still alive, but that something has impacted me enough to make my presence rare. The curiosity of humans never ceases to amaze me, Shizu-chan. The things they come up with… it's… sometimes it's overwhelming."

And I can see in this blond's eyes… I'm coming apart at the seams; losing my composure. With every step I take in his direction, he's beginning to unravel my fears, making me powerless to hide them.

"They say I deserve it… I say they're right…"

Shizuo wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head for a long moment as I continue to peer out into the city. Anger burns in my chest, reminding me that this shouldn't feel so right… I need to stop giving in.

The storm's hesitation is making me anxious, much like a secret dying to be exposed. I want it to hit, silently denying that this weather may be symbolic for something else that I am unwilling to announce.

There is just so much on my mind being blocked by inconceivable pain…

"Shinra and I got into an argument today," I confess before finding the ability to control my mouth.

It's a sign that I am looking for some sort of mental relief.

"Really?" Shizuo asks, seeming relatively surprised. "About what?"

"You."

His hold tightens for a second, loosening when I inhale.

"He thinks I'm using you…"

"That's stupid. You're not using me, Izaya."

Twisting myself around to face him, without leaving his arms, I search his eyes in wonder. Does he really believe that? Does he really think that this isn't just some ploy set up for my own gain? Will it end the way it began?

"Of course I am," I sigh, resting my head on his chest. "I pay you to be here."

"So? You don't pay me to like you… and you don't pay me to kiss you either…"

Shizuo's words are not surprising, though they do capture my undivided attention. Glancing up at him, I know I'd be knocked off my feet if he weren't already holding onto me. He catches my mouth with his own, knowing I won't fight it; forcing me to wonder when it was that we got to this point.

"You taste like a vanilla milkshake," I snicker softly, licking my lips.

"Just finished one before I got here."

"Those things are fattening, you know."

"Izaya, I don't care what anyone thinks…" he tells me what I already know, refusing to allow a switch of subjects like we so often do, "If you're scared -"

"Don't say it like that. That's not what it is," I cut him off.

He sighs. "My point is… I'm here for you because I wanna be. I keep telling you that. I don't care what anyone else thinks. But I do care what you think. I'll do anything you want me to do. Just say it. I'm here."

Slipping out of his arms, I trudge out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to make some tea. He follows closely behind me, still waiting for a response while I continue to wait for the rain.

"I want you to stay," I explain, "But I don't want you to mistake this relationship for something else. Something that it's not."

"Like what?"

"Like friends with benefits or some crazy shit like that."

Don't think I don't see the hypocrisy in my words as I tell the man I've been kissing and cuddling that we're not friends with benefits. If there are any benefits, it's that he makes my migraines go away and keeps me company. And he is - believe it or not - fairly good company.

I enjoy having Shizuo in my life like this; getting to know somebody I've never really known before. It's almost experimental; like testing a fun new game. However, this game has feelings. Feelings I actually find myself caring about.

"Just don't get the wrong idea," I warn him, handing him a cup of tea and a box of sugar cubes for his incessant sweet tooth. "I don't want Shinra yelling at me over things he knows nothing of."

"If he's really giving you that much shit, I can set him straight if you want," the blond suggests.

"Thank you for the offer," I cannot resist a smile, "I think I can handle this one on my own though."

"You sure, Izaya? I have no problem kicking his ass every once in a while."

I chuckle. "Don't worry. If it comes to that point, there's still enough in me to do that bit myself. I could always stab him."

"For real this time?"

"Ah, so you know about the middle school incident?"

Shizuo shrugs. "Celty told me a few things…"

"Tch. I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything that you two don't share with each other. Remind me not to tell you my deepest, darkest secrets, Shizu-chan," I joke, feeling a little better.

From the corner of my eye, I watch the sky light up. Seconds later, a light pattering attacks my favorite window, beginning a rhythm that is likely to last well into tomorrow.

"Do you have any?" he wonders.

"Any secrets?"

"Yeah… like big ones?"

"Who do you think you're talking to, Shizu-chan? Of course I do," I quietly say, feeling a little better as the rain falls harder.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note:** My internet is a serious piece of shit. You don't even want to know how long I sat here trying to upload this document. I mean, wtf? And it's like a daily thing that it just stops working. This service sucks.

Also, I need a raise. Work is not paying me enough and it's ruining my life financially speaking. Grr.

* * *

><p>"I won't ask then," he decides, finishing his tea.<p>

"You're not curious to know the haunting details which I keep locked away in the depths of my shriveled black heart, ne?"

"You kidding?" he scoffs, "Of course I wanna know! But it's like… _your _thing. Not my business."

"_Please_," I roll my eyes, "I can tell by the look on your face. It's killing you."

"What?"

"Oh, Shizu-chan~ this could be fun!"

As I move two steps forward, he takes a single step back, nervously avoiding my eyes.

"Flea… whatever you're thinking…"

The distrust would be painful if it didn't happen to be so amusing. This man looks absolutely mortified, and I haven't even said anything particularly relevant just yet.

Amazing the way his instincts kick in so quickly.

I flick my eyes up and down his long frame several times to screw with his head. Admittedly, I sort of like him like this. Resembling a skittish kitten, rather than a ferocious lion on the prowl. It has me feeling slightly empowered. A rare treat given the circumstances.

"What would you like to know about me?" I wonder aloud, remaining calm and calculated.

Shizuo swallows hard, trying to regain his composure before it becomes lost for an eternity. Realizing he has nowhere to run once he backs into the refrigerator, he brings his nervous eyes back to mine.

"The truth," he states.

My heart rate skyrockets.

"Well… that's a broad topic…" I say, losing a noticeable chunk of confidence. "What brings about this curiosity, Shizu-chan?"

Again, he shrugs, reminding me that he has never been an expert on verbalizing. Nevertheless, he doesn't need to speak for me to know exactly what he is attempting to say. It's strange, like the things you see between couples in movies, or read about in romance novels. Next, we'll be completely each other's sentences while I thrash about in a wild fit of desperation, merely attempting to escape this nightmare before it becomes reality.

God damn my thoughts!

Are these really the things I'm going to think about?

"We keep learning more about each other, but it still feels like something is missing," he finally finds his words, "Something important…"

"As in the final piece to the puzzle?"

"No…" he shakes his head, wearing a small smile on his velvety lips, "You're one puzzle I'm not smart enough to put together. Not by myself, at least…"

"Ah… Shizu-chan shouldn't say such degrading things about himself…"

"It's true, Izaya… I don't think you even have yourself totally figured out."

Taken aback by his words, I allow my incredulity to show on my face. For a rare time in my life, I am speechless.

"Don't take it as an insult or anything!" he leaps into an explanation. "Not trying to be mean… I just… I don't really know if I get myself either! So it's like…"

"You're talking about self-discovery, Shizu-chan. I understand. But puzzles do not take brains, they take patience," I finally work past my case of dry mouth. "Nevertheless, the things you want to know - my secrets - are undoubtedly details that I am fully aware of already."

"I guess so…"

Surprising us both, I take his cup of tea, replacing it with my hand. Tugging gently, I lead him into my bedroom, implying that I am tired.

"So what is it that you're looking for? What in my big bag of skeletons has you curious?"

"If I ask, will you tell?" Shizuo queries.

"What? Like make a game of it?"

"I dunno. Sure. _If_ it's the truth."

"You really want to know about me that much, ne, Shizu-chan?" I smile, truly flattered.

"Is it weird?"

Thinking about this for a moment, I take all circumstances into consideration. There is no helping the way things are between us. It all just happened. Nothing forced. We simply sat back, watching it fall into place, accepting the consequences without doing anything to inhibit the madness.

"No. Not weirder than when we kiss," I decide, sitting on my bed.

Shizuo finds himself on the edge of panic from my words. "Is that weird?"

"Just a little… It's not bad, though… I kind of like it…"

"Good. Me too," he releases a discomfited sigh of relief. "I wouldn't want you to keep doing it with me if you didn't."

"I do…" my cheeks burn red, "It feels nice."

Our conversation is awkward. We're dancing over and around our curiosity, struggling to avoid it. Struggling to stay personal. Neither of us is in the mood to inflict damage on the other through our words. Both of us contain the skill to act violently toward the other. All the while, we're hoping we never do again. We're hoping we can be normal... We're hoping to keep whatever this is between us. Nevertheless, Shizuo and I are fully aware that the wrong questions could be the final straw responsible for snapping us out of this fantasy. This dream.

The closer we are, the more terrifying it becomes.

Is it possible that this is reality?

I don't know what it is I feel anymore. Animosity is surely gone; replaced by a sentiment that feels a little more dangerous due to its unfamiliarity.

The uncertainty is binding.

"So if I ask…" Shizuo breaks the silence. Nodding, I give him his affirmation. He does not hesitate. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

Smile widening, I am not the least bit surprised to hear this question from the launch. For years now, the blond has been under the impression that I have done sinister things that only the most wicked of creatures could take part in. He's right. To a degree.

"That's a complicated question, Shizu-chan," I tease, chewing my bottom lip for the effect.

His deadpan stare tells me he isn't messing around, thus bringing be back to all seriousness. I drop the act.

Shaking my head slowly, I keep my eyes fixated on his, watching the way they burn like embers. "No. I haven't."

"What do you mean, though? By it being complicated?"

I can tell by his voice that he's worried. He suspects that the answer may not be one he wants to hear. Truthfully, it's something I don't want to confess.

How did I even fall into this? I thought I was supposed to be keeping my secrets here. Not spilling them!

"You know how I am…" I sigh, "I've never intentionally sent a person to their death, or killed a human being out of cold blood. My hands aren't clean, but they aren't stained with another's blood either. However, leading people to believe I've committed murder? In the long run, it's good defense. So I allow the suspicions against me."

Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, Shizuo eventually accepts my answer. "Okay."

"My turn?"

"Eh?"

"Well, I figure if you get to ask questions, so do I!"

He thinks about it for a moment. "Right. Shoot."

"Have you ever actually considered killing me?" I query.

"A few times. Like when you got me arrested. Not like you wouldn't have deserved it."

This is a little disheartening. "True."

"But I think you've made up for it by now… I think if I were you, I'd rather die than hurt all the time…"

"Me too. Until I realize I have too much to live for," I grin.

"What makes you love humans so much?"

"Their uniqueness in comparison to other species," I tell him easily, "What's not to love? There are so many ways of looking at it. So many aspects of humanity. Morality, psychology, society as a whole. The human mind is like the deep sea. We know what's there; yet there remains so much to be discovered. Always something new to surprise you, be it for good or bad. Always something to learn! And no two people are exactly the same. I find that incredible. So different. Everyone."

Realizing I could go on for an eternity about why humans amaze me so, I stop myself before getting carried away. Despite all there is to love, I know there is nobody else who loves these creatures the way I do. As a result, most of my sentiments are best kept to myself.

From the looks of it, Shizuo does not disagree.

"Why do you like sweets so much?" I ask, almost as a playful, teasing question.

"Dunno," he shrugs easily, "They make me feel better… Can't really describe it. When someone pisses me off, sugar makes it okay again…"

"What about anger management classes?" I chuckle.

Apparently, Shizuo doesn't find it funny. "Tried it once… Ended up hitting the guy three classes in."

"Poor guy. What'd you hit him for?"

He turns away in embarrassment, mumbling, "Mentioning you…"

"Oh? Well that's a pleasant surprise! Defending me and all!"

"Yeah… shut up."

Giggling, I slide off the bed, moving closer to soon finding myself standing on my toes to give him a proper kiss on the cheek. It's terrifying how natural it is. "No, really. I'm flattered."

However, the innocence of this conversation is waning. The look in his eyes would appear menacing were it not so tragic as he hangs his head.

"What happened to you, Izaya? What hurt you?"


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note:** Slow weekend is slow. I'd love to stay at home all day, but I have to do something stupid. -_-

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><p>Shock crashes down on me like an angry set of waves. The wrath of Poseidon in full effect.<p>

Knowing precisely what he is asking me is the reason I have not the heart to answer; nor the mind to gather what now tears through my mind in an unorganized rush of emotion - the facts. My stomach twists into a vicious, nauseating knot. I can hear the beating of my own heart, pounding like a bass drum in my ears.

"I think this game is over now, Shizu-chan," I say with a dry mouth, trying to keep up a smile that refuses to stay put.

Releasing me from his strong arms, he realizes he may have gone too far this time. I am not abandoning my defenses. Not yet.

"Understand that it's nothing against you…" I run my fingers through my own hair, wishing feelings could be as simple as the rain if only to evaporate just as easily as it falls.

Our separation does not last for more than a minute before Shizuo grabs me by the belt loops of my jeans, tugging me into his warm embrace once again; feeling that I am not struggling for escape. But I'm not opening up either.

There is something strange about him. Something desolate that my heart is too heavy to acknowledge for now.

_God, why does it hurt like this?_

"You wanna be alone… don't you…?" he tries to piece my mystery together.

"Is it ever so simple? I think I'm better this way," I state, relaxing against him. "You see enough tragedy within company and sooner or later, it's just another cliché. Nothing is permanent. I don't want to die, so why kill ourselves to make it last?"

"Because it's supposed to be worth it in the end," he whispers.

"Is it?"

"I think so."

"I think it's lamentable… It is exactly as depicted by Shakespeare in every tragedy he wrote." A melancholy smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "You, of all people, have such high hopes in this twisted world. If I did not know you better, I'd suggest you were mad."

Shizuo snorts. "Probably. I dunno much about Shakespeare, but I know he wrote his fair share of happy endings too."

"Ugh!" I groan into his chest, "Talk about a killjoy!"

"I'm sorry…" he apologizes earnestly, "I didn't mean to…"

"Don't worry about it. I have an idea for an easy fix if you'll stay over again tonight."

I'm so tired, but I don't want to go to sleep just yet.

Combing his fingers through my hair nearly causes me to melt in his hands. The sensation has always been the complete opposite of the pain, forcing me to lean into the touch like it's some gravitational pull.

"If you want me to," he agrees.

"Let's live like college kids. Order Chinese and watch crappy action movies. We can even watch one that has Kasuka in it."

"Hey!" he gapes, attempting to sound offended despite the small chortle paired with the response. "Besides… I thought you hated food like that."

"Heh… I do."

"So… why…?"

Looking out the window, I watch the illumination of the dark sky, quickly finding my answer. It's coming down almost angrily. As if it has some sort of vengeance to take out on the world. Comparing it to my own emotions, the weather is almost terrifying.

"It seems relaxing," I say, "Besides, it's raining much too hard for you to go home. An umbrella will be useless against this storm."

"Yeah… I guess you're right."

* * *

><p>Settling in comfortably on the couch with our nasty takeout that some poor kid had to deliver in this storm (okay, so I'm still a sadist and thought it was hilarious), I pick at a small box of fried rice, much more focused on the action outside my window than the crappy action movie on my television.<p>

Meanwhile, it's obvious that Shizuo is thoroughly enjoying himself as he practically devours his orange chicken, eyes glued to the screen. There are too many things on my mind to harbor the same interest. In fact, the most relaxing detail of this stupid plan of mine is the half empty bottle of Asahi on the coffee table.

Alcohol is a useless tool. I should learn.

I just can't focus on anything. Not Shizuo. Not myself. Not work. Not humans. Nothing. Everything demands to be worked out all at once, none of it willing to wait in line while I sort this out, one challenge at a time.

Grimacing, I dub Descartes' methods useless, all the while hoping the blond beside me puts them to better use.

Be it troubles or fears, obstacles or memories, everything his hazy. Unclear when I need to understand it the most.

I should have suspected that Shizuo would want to dig deep as fast as he did, springing such difficult questions on me as if it were as easy as asking me what the color of the sky is, or which direction the sun rises each morning.

"You think if we keep acting like this people will begin to think we're a couple?" he suddenly blurts, breaking me out of my myriad of meaningless thoughts.

"What people?" I automatically return, grimacing at the monotone in my own words.

"Dunno," he shrugs, setting his empty container on the table with the rest of our garbage. "Anyone, I guess…"

"Quite frankly, I don't care what anybody thinks we are," I say, unable to stop myself from sounding so disinterested, "As long as nobody is under the impression that we're friends with benefits."

"Like Shinra?"

"Exactly."

"So… what if we were more than that?"

Shifting uncomfortably, I consequently move away from the blond, further down the couch; unwilling to tear my eyes away from the window. I know what he's suggesting, which is why I cannot face him.

"You're my employee, Shizu-chan," I calmly remind the brute, trying to ignore the panic which is alive and wild in my heart. So frantic it hurts.

"So? We're friends, too. Right?"

"That's different," I reply dryly.

"Is it, though? Tom is my friend… and, Izaya, think about it."

"What is there to think about?" I raise my defenses, this time unwilling to let them down.

"Honestly, I can't really stop thinking about it. And I don't wanna. I know I'm not half as smart as you, are but you know I'm not stupid either."

Whipping my head around, I give him a look bordering scrutiny and incredulity, if at all possible. "Judging by these current insinuations, do you really want to argue that one?"

"Shut up, Flea. I know you see it too."

"_Prove it_," I leer.

"Fine," he shoots back with confidence. "The kissing. The sleeping together. All of this hanging out, even when you feel alright. Come on. Every time we've started one thing, it just keeps going. What do we ever do to stop it?"

"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?" I sigh, reaching for the remote to pause the movie. "You know how I feel about relationships, Shizu-chan. I told you."

"Then why does it feel so right to try? Hell, why does it feel like we're already there?"

"Tch. Because your protozoan brain is delusional."

"Or maybe you're just trying too hard to deny that I'm right for once."

Knowing that the blond refuses to give up without a satisfying response, I use what's left of my mental strength to push back all of the other thoughts eating away at my brain for this one.

Shizuo has just made it completely clear that his feelings for me are what I fear. Given the circumstances, this is not ideal.

"I suppose it's worth the consideration," I finally decide if only to have him drop the matter until I can worm my way out of it.


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note:** FFFFFFFFF. It is TOO early to be awake. And I'm hungry. I need bacon or something. MMMM bacon.

For now, I'll just share this update! HERE. EAT IT.

And thank you thank you thank youuuuu~ for all of your reviews, favorites, and alerts. I feel speshul. :D

* * *

><p>Wrecked by nervousness, I cannot seem to find sleep. Better yet, I feel entirely restless.<p>

My brain throbs in correlation with the uncertainty, fully blocking all solutions from coming through. It's like trying to find cell phone reception high in the mountains. Impossible.

I'm hanging on Shizuo's every word, knowing that if I let go I'm done for. Knowing all too well what he wants from me, giving it to him becomes an entirely different matter.

Orihara Izaya does not fall in love, nor does he "do" relationships like this. That idiot knows it to be true. So why is he so persistent? Does he _want_ to end up hurt like the others? Does he want to go back to our malevolent ways? Or is he just insane enough to believe his strength will protect him from certain doom?

Even to this extent, I'm the only person he's been in anything remotely close to a relationship with. The kissing. The… cuddling… These strange excuses for dates.

Yeah. I've noticed it too.

I won't even deny it anymore. That's what they fucking are. And I'm always the one asking for them… aren't I? Asking him to stay. Asking him to dinner. Asking him to spend time with me at all, even when the pain isn't in effect… Though it always hovers over my shoulder…

This is truly sadomasochistic of me…

He has no idea what it would mean to be with me. No clue the ways in which it would scar him when it dies. Giving him what he wants can only cause him eventual pain. Pain on par with these migraines. Destructive, unbearable, horrible agony. A stinging burn in his chest that no living creature, be it human or monster, deserves to live with.

None but me.

Muzzling a meager whimper, I curl into myself, clutching my head, wishing I could physically grab the pain and pull it out of my skull. My entire body is wracked with agonizing tremors.

Will I ever wake up from this nightmare?

After our awkward string of conversations, always ending uncomfortably, I can't wake him up. I can't need his healing warmth. I can't be weak.

No more!

"_Ngh_…"

But this… I can't…

With all remaining strength, I reach for my bottle of sleeping pills and drag myself out of bed, doing my best to stay silent as I vacate the room. Stumbling down the hall, and nearly falling down the stairs several times, I make my way into the kitchen, finding my painkillers exactly where I left them this morning.

Agonizing tears feel like needles pricking my eyes while my hands tremble too hard to open either bottle.

"Fuck," I hiss, desperately in need of the remnants of the orange containers' chemical contents.

Unsurprisingly, my indestructible pain has my breathing shallow and labored. This isn't the worst it has ever been, but it isn't too far from the top of the list.

Pulling one of my sharpest kitchen knives from a drawer, I give up on twisting the impossible white cap from the plastic tube it belongs to; instead, slicing it off with one fluid motion.

Somewhere in my mind, I think this might be a sick joke as I down the last several pills before moving on to the next bottle to repeat the process.

To top it off, I'm feeling just a little desperate. Reaching into the freezer, I select an open bottle of vodka, pour myself a generous double shot, and down it for the added effect of numbness. It's a bad idea poisoning myself like this; though it is no worse than the extreme affliction tearing me apart. In comparison, it is a rather small price to pay.

Convincing myself that I feel slightly better - never mind that it's a complete lie - I try to force myself back up the stairs, only the vertigo proves itself too strong, hitting me hard like one of Shizu-chan's vending machines.

Stumbling back, I hit the window with a loud thud, flinching as my head bounces against the glass like a rubber ball. Immobilized by the shock of pain reverberating in my skull, I dismally slide to the floor gasping for air.

I can't even make a sound.

When did life get so bad? When did my luck run out?

The relentless rain pattering against the window sounds more like static than infinite drops of water crashing to earth. My vision blurs, eliminating shape, structure, detail, from all that surrounds me.

It's not the worst pain I've ever felt, but it makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel irreversibly _mortal_.

"Izaya?"

Opening my eyes to the sound of my name, the blurs refuse to become recognizable shapes while the disequilibrium fucks with my stomach. I can easily assume that the long, moving blob of white and blue can only be the person who is never supposed to see me this way.

"Hnngh…" I moan, realizing the pain has not gone away.

I have no idea how long I've been sitting here in this lifeless heap, drowning in my own suffering. My heart is pounding against my ribs and it's... it's so hard to breathe.

"Izaya, what are you doing on the floor?" the brute questions, kneeling beside me.

"C-couldn't sleep…" I stutter in a breathy whisper, still feeling lead in my chest.

"Your head..." he notices, taking my wrists and plucking my hands out of my hair. "Izaya, you're bleeding..."

"Ne…?"

Quietly, it dawns on me that I must have dug my fingernails into my scalp out of desperation. I've done it once before… when these nightmares began…

"Shizu-chan… It hurts…" I accept the way things are, allowing him to see me in this pathetic state all over again. I feel like it is some sick routine, but I can't help it.

I can't stop myself from conceding to all that is out of my control…

Reaching for him, my body longs for his.

"Shh… I know," he says quietly, pushing my hair out of my eyes with warm fingertips. "I know it does."

Scooping me into his arms, I find myself vehemently clinging to his balminess for the hundredth time as he carries me back to bed; this time laying me down without separating his body from mine. He knows separating us may as well kill me…

Shizuo knows…

Tears finally wet my eyes, filling to the brim before spilling down my cheeks in stinging, cold streaks. It's humiliating as it is painful. I can't hold it in any longer. I can't pretend that I'm stronger than this while it claims every fucking piece of me, stealing more than I can afford to lose.

There has to be something wrong. Something more than one too many vending machines to the head.

"Damn it, Izaya," Shizuo begs, "Don't… please, don't cry…"

But I can't stop myself, and so I cry harder… Gripping the soft fabric of his shirt as if it's my last tie to earth before I die; hopelessly releasing strong, silent sobs into his shoulder while he scrambles to calm me.

I feel like a child who has hit his head at the playground, only I do not recall a time in my childhood when anyone was ever there to pick me up when I fell down. Shinra has always been the one to treat my injuries, even as children. And nobody has ever been there to comfort me when I've cried. I've always taken care of myself...

I forgot I could cry like this… I forgot that feelings like this even existed…

Nobody has ever held me in such a way that they never intend to let me go. Nothing has ever felt so promising.

Wishing I could tell him how much this hurts, both physically and emotionally, the words that refuse to come out are symbolized by latching onto him as hard as my thin arms can hold. I'm so tired… so tired of living this way. Fed up. Exhausted. Entirely out of sorts with myself, Shizuo, reality. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to.

Why does giving up have to be so hard?

Why hasn't anybody given me this until now?

"I'm here for you," he tells me, gently raking his fingers over the back of my neck. "Don't give up."

No, Shizuo. You don't understand. You don't fucking see, do you? Are you blind? Completely cut off from witnessing the truth with your own Jupiter eyes? It's so much more… so much more than you could ever imagine. So much more that the feelings you have for me cannot fix.

I feel exposed; yet at the same time…_ invisible_. Nobody sees what needs to be seen as it crashes down on me. All at once. Angrily. Vengefully.

If you had any semblance of what I feel…

Physical heat.

Emotional ardor.

If I could cut it out with my knife, I would. If I could let it bleed out of me like a poison, I would not for a second's time hesitate to do so.

All of it. The uncertainty. The agony. The addiction.

I want no part of it.

My name is Orihara Izaya. And this is my first legitimate breakdown.


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note:** I want a cupcake. So bad. Tomorrow, I'm getting me a box of mother fucking cupcakes.

That said... THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS! You know, it really boosts my confidence as a writer to read that you guys felt so much for Izaya that some of you cried too! I am touched. T^T

But I'm also surprised! When I originally posted this, a lot of people saw it as a cliffhanger (which I probably should have enunciated more when I re-edited). It's really interested to see different reactions. I really, really enjoyed that.

So thank you. :D

I'll stop wasting your time now!

* * *

><p>"You're stronger than this," he promises, keeping me pressed into his enveloping heat as the tears continue to have their way with me.<p>

For all of the warmth I absorb the combination of different pains fight against it, demanding their victory in claiming my body permanently.

Shizuo is wrong. I'm not strong. I'm drained. All energy sources, all will, all pride. Gone. Emptied. Devoured. You name it. I'm too far gone. There is no saving me.

"Don't give up," he begs, "I'm here. It's alright."

"N-no…" I weep into his shirt, shaking my head adamantly.

"Fuck… I'm so sorry…"

Shaking with the onslaught of tears, my body presses more forcefully against his, attempting to steal whatever I can of the warmth. None of it is enough. Not this time.

Picking up on my desperation, he glides his fingers through my hair, using his gentle touch in the best way he knows how. Again, it does nothing for me. Compared to the undying affliction destroying my life, I can barely feel them, no matter how hard he tries.

"Do you want me to call Shinra?" he mutters softly, knowing he could never comprehend just how much pain I am in.

His indestructible form would never allow it.

My arms tighten around his shoulders, with my fingernails digging into his back for a paltry need to keep holding on. Leaving my face buried in the crook of his hot neck, I shake my head, so afflicted by the migraine that I cannot force out a single "no" as my answer.

Shizuo holds me close. "I don't know what to do…" he tells me, obviously reaching his own breaking point. "I don't know how to help you…"

Shivering, more nonexistent needles stab my brain.

Fuck that.

It's more like screwdrivers plunging into my skull over and over again, summoning a small, miserable sound from the back of my voiceless throat. "Hngh… ugh…"

"Tell me what to do," he pleads. "Tell me so I can help you…"

The blond sounds as choked as I feel; his breath shuddering in rhythm with mine.

"C-cold…" I whisper piteously, wishing I could melt into the radiant heat his body produces.

Close is never close enough. His hand in my hair, his body against mine, his arms tightly wound behind my back, and still… _lacking_.

Even with the blankets drawn up around us, my body still refuses to absorb the heat that it needs, making me actually wish I could spend eternity burning in the fiery pits of hell. I promise this is worse.

"I have an idea," he mumbles softly in my ear, still overwhelmed; discouraged by my undying pain. "But you're not gonna like it…"

"Ngh…"

Still holding to him as tightly as I can, I nod, willing to try anything.

Almost hurriedly, though carefully, carries me into the bathroom, keeping his firm, protective grip as he turns on the shower.

"Sh-Shizu-chan?" I wince, hating the bothersome light while wondering what the hell he's doing.

I feel like a child.

"It's okay," he says, trying harder to convince himself than me.

Burying myself in his chest, I try to hide from the agony, feeling his movements seize control. He steps under the jet before giving me the chance to protest.

"Hngh!" I gasp, pulling away in surprise as a hot water absorbs into my clothes.

Shizuo lowers us to the shower floor, never slackening his grip. "It's okay," he whispers delicately.

"W-what are you doing?" I breathe, shifting uncomfortably, unhappy to find myself soaked to the fucking bone before I can resist. What the hell is he thinking?

"Just try to relax," he tells me, beginning his slow ministrations through my wet hair. "I'm trying to keep you warm. It's okay."

Understanding dawns on me, making me feel guilty for doubting him no matter how unconventional his methods can be. He's trying; trying way damn more than I deserve. For that, my mixed feelings simmer down into a steadily churning appreciation.

I shudder. "It's wet…"

"I know… I couldn't think of anything else."

Making an attempt to get used to being in the shower fully clothed, I try to relax against him, feeling the medicinal warmth as it soaks into my skin. The combination of his touch and the water's heat work against the pain in my skull.

Losing track of time as my mind drifts away from suffering, I wonder how long we've been like this and if we could stay this way forever. I would do anything not to give up this intense calidity. If only this sensation could be bottled up into prescription drugs. I would never feel this affliction ever again.

* * *

><p>"Izaya? You still awake?" he whispers hesitantly, pausing the movement of his fingers across my scalp.<p>

"Don't stop," I mutter, nearly inaudibly.

"Izaya…" he sighs, doing as told.

"Please… _Don't_…" I plead, shifting.

As the water continues to beat down on my form in a soothing pattern, I manage to retaliate against the burn of light. Opening my worn eyes to meet his, I refuse to keep losing.

Soaked by the overhead jet, the steaming water continuously absorbs into his blond hair which clings to his face. Sweet amber eyes stare back at me, galactic as ever. Full of intense power and ambition. Full of promise and security.

Who knew so much trust could exist in a pair of rare orbs? Honesty. Comfort. It's all there, contemplatively swirling with life.

Reaching for his face, I must look like a wretch reaching for heaven. But before I can feel his smooth skin beneath my fingertips, or brush the soaking tresses out of his eyes, he pulls his hand out of my own hair, lacing his fingers with mine.

It is only when this contact is made that I feel the trembles. Mine against his.

Choking back tears, I pull myself up as much as I can, determined not to let the churning of my stomach annihilate this unstoppable moment of impulse. My heart is racing, but to resist feels so much worse than any migraine.

I need this… I need to feel him… I need to know that there's something more powerful than this disease in my twisted little world.

Wrapping my free arm around his shoulder I twist myself, allowing the hot jet of water to pound against my back.

"Izaya…" he breathes worriedly, gently squeezing my hand in his.

Shizuo knows I'm forcing myself, but I can't… I can't stop now. I've been avoiding it; telling myself over and over some lie that everyone else sees straight through. The pain… lust… fear…

"Hnngh…" I groan through another tremor ripping through me like knives.

"Don't…" he shakes his head, pulling me close. "You'll make it worse."

Ignoring his warning along with my physical turmoil, I press my forehead against his, taking time to steady my breathing before taking the next step. As I pull my hand out of his, I press it against his chest, feeling his heart beneath my palm. It knows exactly how I feel right now, bringing more tears to my burning eyes.

There is so much I want to say to him, if only for words to fail me. I am left with nothing but actions to express what he needs to know.

With one hand on his heart, and another in his dripping wet hair, I press my lips against his with desperate force until his lips part and he begins to return the favor. My breath hitches as his medicinal warmth becomes a taste in my mouth.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note:** Well, I certainly can't keep you waiting much longer, can I?

* * *

><p>Unwilling to surrender the sweet sensation of his tongue battling mine for dominance, I continue to kiss him feverishly until his lips leave my mouth for their own gain, but do not leave my skin as he peppers a soft trail of even softer lips along my jaw and down my neck, stopping twice to suck on sensitive patches of flesh.<p>

I shudder, a grin tugging at my lips as the hot tingling of the act pushes against the pain. I want - need - more…

Pulling away, his touch is replaced by a twinge of disappointment. I stare at him, perplexed as his eyes beg for permission before he speaks it.

"Izaya…" he says my name so perfectly, as if it were made for his voice.

Warning signs flash like neon lights in my frazzled mind while my heart thrusts violently into my ribcage, its speed matching his as if both organs are going to tear us apart to escape. I don't want to think anymore. I only want to feel - to feel every bit of this agony die under his heat.

He is asking me if this is okay; wanting to be sure that we are not digging ourselves into something we cannot escape later on. At the moment, how am I supposed to care? How can I say no?

Burying my face in the crook of his hot neck, I run my tongue over smooth skin before settling on a spot to suck. Shizuo tilts his head back, giving me better access. He has never experienced anything like this before. I can tell by the deep groan as I nip at the bruised red patch in my mouth.

Unsure of what to do with himself while I continue to tag his flesh with my physical signature, he rakes his fingers down my back. I arch into them, reminding myself of a cat, always giving in to a gentle touch.

Satisfied with the red spots left by my mouth, I lean back to examine my work, committing the image to memory. The entire image from the several crimson spots to the pink hue on his cheeks bringing out the fiery gold in his peculiar eyes.

It is as if I look at him and the world doesn't matter.

Whatever waits outside of these walls does not exist.

What are you doing to me Heiwajima Shizuo? And why are you so fucking _good_ at it?

I know I'm not strong enough… but I would be anything in the world for this. Anything.

He leans forward, pushing his lips into my forehead while his long fingers tug upward at the hem of my shirt. "Can I?" he asks as delicately as he kisses me.

Swallowing my nervousness, I nod, helping him peel the soaked fabric from my skin, pulling it over my head with a soft tug. Quickly, I decide I am comfortable like this before my quivering hands work at each button of his shirt, only to tear my gaze away in shame.

The scar I left him with on the day we met is the only imperfection slicing through an otherwise perfect creation in a perfect line across his chest. It is only fair that I should have to see it, but so wrong for him to be burdened with the memory of our deadly first encounter.

Life was so much simpler then…

"Hey… don't…" Shizuo says, cupping my face in his hand.

I lean against the sensation, closing my eyes to block out what I cannot so easily forget.

There is so much that I'm coming to regret; more that I can't make myself understand.

I know why I pay him… I pay him because there is too much that I owe him for - repairs that money can't buy. However, when money is all you have…

"I'm sorry…" I mutter, pushing myself off of him.

The tears rolling down my cheeks are invisible against the water running down my face.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

"There's nothing to forgive," he tells me, taking my hand with a half-smile on his face.

"How can you say that?" I wonder, taken aback by his tranquil acceptance, "I gave you that scar."

"I earned it."

Blasphemy.

"Shizuo… how can you say something like that?"

"'Cause it's true."

"How?" I narrow my eyes into scrutinizing slits, wondering how the hell it is possible for anybody at all to think such a thing. "I…"

"I started it. If it hadn't been for me immediately lashing out at you, it wouldn't have happened."

Face falling into a frown, I suddenly begin to feel cold. I hate the way he tries to save me from responsibility. And I'm about to voice my opinion when he settles over me with a predatory look burning in his fiery eyes.

The sight is enough to cause my lower stomach to coil into twisted little knots of lust.

Everything about him has my body screaming for more.

How fucking embarrassing…

Kissing me again, he takes a hand, dragging his fingertips down my torso until he reaches the button of my jeans. He unhooks it and gently tucks his fingers down the front of my underwear, flushing a bright shade of pink when he finds my hardening erection.

"Ahh…" I moan softly at the minimal contact, suddenly finding it painful to stay in these wet pants any longer.

He senses this, pulling back before he easily pulls them from my skin, despite the way they try to stick to my frame. How does he make movement look so easy? And how can it be so comfortable to be completely naked - wet and naked - in front of him?

"Damn it…" he mutters, drinking in the sight.

I crinkle my eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing…" he stutters nervously, "You're just…"

Running his hands up and down my sides he comes back down to nip and kiss my collar bone.

"Beautiful…" he whispers, sliding one hand from my hip to my needy, throbbing cock.

The sensation of his hot hand on me in such a fashion is almost too much for me to handle. Feeling my eyes roll back in my head, I nearly come right here. It's been so long… so fucking long since anyone has touched me like this. Too long.

I've almost forgotten what it feels like.

"Hnn… Shizu-chan…"

Giving me long, slow strokes, he smiles - proud to earn my approval.

"A-are you sure you've n-never…aaah… done this before…?" I tease with a gentle smile.

His face heats up once again. "Never…"

"Shit!"

Grabbing his head, I pull his mouth into mine, kissing him desperately. His hand… as amazing as it is, is soon not nearly enough. I need more. I need to feel more.

Reaching down with quivering hands, I work at the button of his pants until his own hot erection is freed. He groans deeply at lacking restriction pushing him down as I press my thumb against the smooth head. He twitches in my hand, and it all goes straight to my own.

Forcing myself to keep my composure, I pull out of his lips and look at him with pleading eyes. "Let's take this back to bed, ne?"

"What? Now?" he asks, frowning at the removal of my hand from his dick.

"Please? I don't want to take your virginity on my shower floor…"

"Oh… right…"

The removal of his hand is painful as he turns off the shower and scoops me up from the bottom of the shower.

He carries us back to bed, not even bothering to waste time drying off. I don't blame him. I almost regret stopping him.

Laying me down, he wriggles out of the remainder of his wet clothing, giving me quite a show of his full body before we get back to business. He is incredibly lean now that I take time to truly observe what lies beneath that uniform. Lean yet toned - as if to disguise that serious strength.

And his dick…

I shudder, needing that full, hard size inside of me.


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for all of your comments and enthusiasm! I won't keep you waiting with this. :D

* * *

><p>Still twitching for Shizuo and Shizuo only, my hips jerk all on their own, begging him to take me. He grins, fully into how badly my body wants his. For a novice, he is entirely confident, readi8 ng me as easily as a children's book.<p>

Positioning himself on top of me earns an immediate moan as his erection brushes against mine. He catches my gasp in in his mouth, transforming it into an even deeper approving moan.

Damn these sultry kisses tearing me apart.

I never knew it was possible to feel something so strong…

Shizuo grinds into me, and I'm sure I'm going to die from the pleasure. He's a natural, using his distinctive animal-like qualities to push him from one step to the next.

"Fuck," I hiss, digging my fingernails into his back while his hands roam over my body. "Shizu-chan…"

"What?" he breathes, clearly enjoying the taste of my skin in his mouth.

"I need you…"

Nodding, he retracts, giving me a few solid, full strokes. If I wasn't warm before, every cell of my body is on fire now.

Sensing that I can't take much more of this, he presses his own head against my ass, sliding it up and down the crevice several times before I spread my legs and he presses it against my hole, ready as ever.

"Wait…" I stop suddenly.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't go in dry…" I mutter, "In the top drawer…"

Shizuo follows my instruction, finding an unopened bottle of lube ready and waiting for our use in the nightstand's drawer.

"Gotcha," he smirks, opening it quickly; squeezing out a generous amount on his fingers.

I shudder at the sight, only to tremble more as his wetted fingers begin to massage my opening a short moment later.

Plunging a finger inside earns an immediate moan on my part. He pumps it in an out several times; then adds another, enjoying my response as he stretches me to his liking. Never before have I been with anyone - like this - who knows exactly what I want through so little words. The mere idea is chilling in a sense. To know I can be so easily read by one such as Heiwajima Shizuo.

This man… he never ceases to surpass my highest expectations.

The way he burns me with his heat…

The way he knows where to touch…

Knows when I'm hurting…

Knows when I'm hiding…

His fingers push into me one more time, as deep as they'll go, suddenly brushing against my sweet spot as he wiggles the appendages. Vision going white, my body curls into the overwhelming sensation, racking my frame with blissful, heart-racing shivers.

"A-are you okay?" He asks, nervously, pulling his expert fingers out.

"Oh, god. Do that again…" I breathe.

A chaste kiss brushes my lips before Shizuo squeezes more of the lube into his hand, coating his dick in it seconds later.

As I am about to go as far as to beg, he slips the pulsating piece into me with unbelievable ease, beginning to slowly thrust himself in an out. If it were possible to melt like chocolate, I'd be a fucking puddle of the sugary stuff now…

"Shit…" he breathes, "You're so fucking tight… Hngh…"

"Aahhh… Hnn… _Shizu-chan_…"

He responds by quickening his thrusts; placing sweet kisses along my jaw. "Tell me what to do," he growls, predatorily.

"Harder…"

The increasing sound of his body slamming into mine, lighting a fire each time he buries himself deeper, drowns out everything but the two of us. The pain which thrives in my system becomes irrelevant, succumbing to none other than his touch sinking in as far as it can go.

Shizuo picks up speed, angling himself just right, when his dick hits my prostate again, driving my body wild. The moan is trapped in my throat by exhilaration, eliminating all proper function. My body is his. Completely under his incredibly dominating control.

As if it weren't enough, once he realizes exactly what he is doing to me, he angles himself just right to keep hitting this spot over and over, happy to see me in a dizzying mess, and adding his hand to my needy, leaking erection.

Crashing our lips together, he slows his ministrations for a moment, feverishly kissing me as if it will be the last time. He eats up my moans, swallowing them whole.

Tensing with the coiling of my lower stomach, he feels the oncoming change in my body, once again gaining speed which each delicious thrust. Unable to hold out any longer, my walls clench around him and I moan, releasing liquid lust onto us both. With a few powerful thrusts, Shizuo quickly follows inside of me, doubling over to catch his breath in the afterglow.

* * *

><p>For the next several days, Heiwajima Shizuo is both my curse and my cure.<p>

Taking me into his heat each time a migraine comes one, he wills them away, controlling my body with his own. I hate it, and at the same time, I can't tell him no. I don't want to.

Migraines have nothing on the combination of strong heat and lust working against them. He touches me like that… in a way that only he can. He frees me from turmoil, melting the agony.

If I did not need him as badly as I do, there rests no doubt in my mind that I would push him away. Instead, I drown in every second, unable to put a stop to all of this madness.

It's almost like being drunk. The more I have, the more intoxicated I become. The more I lose my mind to his sweet, addictive poisons.

Who knew…? Who ever would have predicted that something so animalistic - not that I mind - as sex would be the answer to pushing back the uncontrolled horror eating my life? Taking one day after the other to chew me up in its razor sharp teeth?

He has seen me weak so many times it hardly matters anymore if I give myself up entirely.

Is it worth it?

Is it worth giving myself up?

Not at all.

I'm making a huge fucking mistake.

I'm going against all that I stand by for this. All that separates me from the average human race.

I'm more than this. Better.

I was born to be a god; not to be so easily taken down - shredded - by affliction.

Nevertheless, I cannot control how uncontrollable this pain is. Shizuo can. The irony of which is almost hilarious.

After what I count to be the seventh round, I exit the bathroom with wet hair and a fresh set of clothes on my back, perfectly ready to fall into the sheets for a solid night of sleep.

Crawling between the blankets, I see that he is already there; sailing through bliss in dreamland.

Hesitantly, I reach out to feel those bleach blond tresses between my fingertips, wondering what drove him to lose his mind enough to care about someone like me. Someone he is meant to loathe with every cell in his body.

"Why, Shizu-chan…?" I sigh, burying my fingers in his hair. "Why would you get yourself mixed up with me like this…?"


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note:** I'm looking for a new job. But now I have to go get ready for work. It suuuuucks.

Please enjoy this next chapter. :D

Or not.

It's really up to you.

* * *

><p>The morning sun is bright; hardly a cloud in view.<p>

Shizuo stands before me, head hung; a mop of messy blond hair shielding his solemn eyes. "I can't take it anymore. I quit."

"I'm sorry..." I don't fully understand - that, or I'm trying to avoid believing what he's suggesting. "What...?"

"I can't do it."

His deep sigh is approaching mournful. Nervousness bubbles in my stomach.

Is he ashamed? Should I have seen this coming? Did we go a too far?

Yes.

We crossed the line long ago. Now, it's too late for us to go back. Things will never be the same. We don't want them to be. We can't feel the way we once did. The world is a different place; this is not a dream after all. He is more fragile than I thought.

Do I blame him?

No.

Who wouldn't fall apart? I'm surprised he lasted this long, as I would have thrown in the towel weeks ago.

"Shizuo-"

"No! Listen to me for a minute, okay!"

Silently, I nod, willing to give him the time he needs to work with words I surely would have spat ten times over by now. It's a good thing he isn't me.

Ever hear of the term, "Too smart for your own good?"

"I-it's killing me, Izaya," we are off to a rough start as he fumbles his words, struggling to put me down gently. I understand that there's no easier way. "Not in the same way that it's killing you, but... it's _killing_ me. I can't stand it anymore… to see you constantly suffering. Suffering _because_ of me! Because of something _I_ did."

"I don't care who did it…" I whisper, realizing I'm to blame for provoking him in the first place, accepting responsibility in my own mind, even if I will not utter the words aloud. "I just want it fixed…"

"Well I do!" he protests, "I care! The past few days have been nothing but proof."

"Of what?"

"Everything! That I hurt you. That you're sick. That I can't do anything to fix you no matter how hard I try… What kinda man am I supposed to be if I can't make up for all of this? So I quit."

Leaning back in my office chair, I give him a skeptical look, wondering where his logic is derived from. "And how does giving up solve anything?"

Shizuo snaps his molten eyes back up to mine, meeting them with an almost vicious intensity. "I'm not giving up," he says, taken aback by my evidently misplaced accusation. "Just quitting."

"Shizuo," I continue to call him by name as an indication that I am not messing around. "You're going to have to elaborate if you want me to understand your sense of logic."

Heaving another sigh, Shizuo leans against the edge of my desk, nervously gripping the edges with strong hands. I wish this could be easier on us both, but it feels as if the oxygen has been sucked out of the room through a vacuum. Breathing is arduous as this point.

"I quit…" he repeats for the umpteenth time.

He's beginning to frustrate me. "So you've said."

"But… I dunno… I'm not - if it's okay with you - I'm not_ leaving_ you."

Well, if I was not breathless already…

Choking back fear, I continue to listen intently, processing every word if only to over analyze it. Someday, this style of thinking is going to ruin me - that is to say if it isn't at this very moment.

"I don't wanna get paid to do this anymore, Izaya," he says, making it clear that his courage is really hanging by a thread here. "I wanna do it 'cause I care about you… and I don't deserve to be here. I don't deserve to spend my time with someone like you."

I want to take this comment as an insult rather than a compliment. I want to be angry with him for it, rather than feeling my chest tingle with that familiar burn. That nameless sensation that fills me with resentment for being unable to banish or hate the way it makes me feel.

Left speechless, I can only wait for the blond to keep speaking.

"I know it's wrong to feel this way about you… except I can't make myself regret it either."

My stomach twists into a multitude of tight knots. Clenching my fists, I hide the shaking in my hands, feeling the dull throb of a migraine slowly sneaking up on me. As my heart painfully slams into my ribs, I could swear they're cracking with each oversized beat.

This is not what should be happening.

"I've been thinking about it nonstop," he continues, "And I realized that this whole time, it's been there. This whole time, I've wanted to tell you… It's the last part of step three. It's the fear you told me to face."

I can't. I'm the one who can't take it anymore.

"Shizuo… whatever it is you're trying to say… Don't."

Shinra was right.

What good am I if all I could ever do is cause him pain?

Break his heart. Break his spirits. Leave an everlasting scar on something to be nurtured and properly cared for. I'm no good. No better. No different. I am the same as always, running away from everything an ordinary human being could want, only to see that in my fight to be something more - something special - I'm giving up so much more than I've bargained for. Much more than I can afford to lose…

I'm taking away from others; never stopping to acknowledge their needs; mercilessly taking them down. _Destroying them_.

Shizuo isn't the undeserving one. It's _me_.

I throw away what any sane man would take without hesitation. And for what? Self-defense? For the protection of some scared little boy trapped in the past with the weak excuse that it was never his fault? He did not ask to be alone. Nobody gave him a choice.

Still… that hardly makes it right. Scared still as he may be, it should not be up to him whether or not the people surrounding him are allowed to find the love they long for.

Shinra is right. And I'm more of a monster than Hades' kraken rising from the sea to destroy Argos… or however the story goes.

Shizuo stares at me with wide yes, mouth shut.

"I don't want to hurt you," I tell him, feeling a pang like the slice of a blade, cut through my chest. "But that's all that I could ever do."

He shakes his head. "I don't believe that."

"And you're an amazing person to think so," I smile half-heartedly. "I just can't let you be in the same position that so many others have been… I can't let you be a repeat."

It's a sick comment to make after sleeping with him when I should have said no. Stealing his heart and his virginity? This is deserving of a fate worse than Hell.

I deserve to be tied to Celty's motorcycle and dragged through the busy streets of Ikebukuro until I die a violent, bloody death. I deserve to be wiped out like a deadly disease before it claims the lives of its victims. Because that is exactly what I am. A disease. Bacteria. Poison. A virus.

"If there is anyone in this world who is unworthy of what you have to offer, it's me, Shizuo."

"I just can't believe that," he argues. "And even if I could, we've been through too much. There is nobody else."

"You're mistaken."

"I'm not." The tension is ready to break us with these words… And then he says the unfathomable. "I dunno what you're so afraid of, Izaya. I just know that I am in love with you."


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much as always for your feedback! I love it. I really do. :D

Unfortunately, I start class again today, so updates will be a little slower than usual. Sorry about that. +_+

WEEEEEEELLLL... here you go. lol

* * *

><p>The world casts itself in shadow, drained of all hope.<p>

Those words…

Feel them all you want. Bask in their false glory. But do not speak them. _For they are cursed_.

Tremors begin in the throbbing of my head before rippling down my spine like a strong ocean current, disrupting the life beneath the surface, spinning it round and round.

Burying my face in my hands, I determine that this must be some sort of paradox. The pressure builds up in my eyes once more. Hidden from his view, they fall down my cheeks before absorbing into the sleeves of my shirt, which are pulled over my hands. Part of a desperate act that makes me feel hidden when I'm coming undone.

But Shizuo would never buy such an act. No. He sees straight through me, knowing what it means to see Orihara Izaya in tears.

"Why do you try so hard to deny it?" he wonders, need ringing clearly in his deep voice.

"I don't want it..." I cannot help but defensively snap. "Love is a curse."

"What makes you see it that way?" he has to understand. "I'm not even asking for you to love me back. I -"

"But you _would_," I cut him off, refusing to let him get carried away by this madness. I can barely keep my own head straight enough to get through this. I may not even make it to the end. "In time, my refusal will have gone on much too long for even the strongest of man to bear, leaving us both cold and alone."

"I'm willing to take my chances," he insists, nowhere near backing down. "I don't think you really want to be by yourself forever."

Uncovering my eyes, I narrow them accusingly, irritated that he won't just accept my choices in life and let go. "I do what I have to."

"For what?" he is quick to retaliate. "To prevent yourself from getting hurt?"

"I have my reasons."

"Look, I dunno what fucked you up so bad to make you think this way, but do you really think that giving your heart to somebody who loves you and wants to be with you will ruin your life?"

That little boy from the past is afraid; trying to block out the memories. The loneliness. The pain in every breath he takes. _He_ needs me.

The irony, verging on hilarious, is almost too much to take. Incredulous. A cynical snicker drips off my tongue like venom. "Actually, I do."

Shizuo stands up straight, unable to believe it for himself. "Izaya... seriously?"

"Have you not listened to a damn word I've said since this entire ordeal began? Love means nothing but trouble in the end. It's nothing but a setback of our personal goals. A prevention method used to stop us from obtaining what we want in life. Go find it for yourself if you want, Shizuo, but leave me out. I want no part in your stupidity."

"Well what if what I want in life is to love you?" he snaps back, keeping up with my reactions.

"Then you're stupider than I originally thought you were," I glare. "The only thing loving me will get you is a broken heart."

Shizuo goes silent for a drawn out moment, cycling through my words over and over in his head. Those eyes could never keep a secret. He's much too honest.

"Do you regret sleeping with me?" he asks somberly, unable to keep up the fight.

For both of our sakes, the answer is worth it.

"Every second was a mistake."

I watch his heart drop through his stomach. Determining that there is nothing more to say, he nods once in acceptance before showing himself out.

* * *

><p>"You really are the worst of the worst," Shinra glowers, angrily shoving a new bottle of sleeping pills in my hand.<p>

Coming up with no clever retort, not even a cynical grin on my lips, I pocket the tablets. "I know," I nod.

Why not? He's right, isn't he?

"Not only did you do exactly what I told you not to, you took it even further after you said you wouldn't!"

"In all fairness, Shinra, it was a moment of panic on my part," I sigh, trying not to let the guilt get the best of me. "One thing lead to another and-"

"Save your excuses for somebody who doesn't know you as well as I do," he bites. "I told you Shizuo should not have been involved in the first place."

I know I shouldn't... but...

"How is he?" I ask, unable to prevent myself from feeling some concern for the man I've undoubtedly injured.

"How do you think?" the doctor scoffs, shuffling through some paper work before handing me another file for Shiki. "I mean, have you looked around Ikebukuro lately? I haven't seen this much destruction since the week he met you!"

"So you're saying this is all my fault?" I grimace, wondering where the old Orihara Izaya - who wouldn't have thought twice about all of this - went.

I think the migraines killed him.

"Of course I am. You knew he was vulnerable, Izaya. No matter how sick you are."

"I know you don't believe me, but I really didn't mean for things to get so out of hand. How was I supposed to know that the idiot would confess his love to me!"

I try to play it casually, recognizing that I am a miserable failure at such.

Nobody understands it... all of the factors, my reasons, the fear. The line had to be drawn somewhere.

"Oh, I believe you," Shinra continues his rant, "It doesn't mean I'm not mad at you."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm still miserable and the guy hates my fucking guts all over again," I mutter, running my hands through my hair.

I'm exhausted. Without Shizuo, sleep is difficult and the pain has been doing whatever it wants for the past week and a half. I just have to keep telling myself that there was nothing else I could do. As horrible as I feel, we couldn't go on.

"That's where you're wrong, actually," the doctor sighs, falling into his office chair. "He doesn't hate you at all."

"Shinra... Not sure I can believe that..."

"I'm serious. With all of the destruction he's caused lately, if he hated you, you'd be dead."

"So you've talked to him, I'm assuming?"

He shakes his head, before readjusting his glasses. "No. I've had Celty keeping an eye on him just in case."

"I'd given him so many warnings," I say quietly. "I told him over and over that as much as I need him, we couldn't get carried away."

"It doesn't matter. The fact is you did."

"Right... Well, thanks for the intel. I'll call you if Shiki-san needs anything else."

"Yeah," he returns almost bitterly, "No problem. Just try not to overdose."

Something in his tone tells me he hopes that I do. Something weighing in my chest - possibly my heart - tempts me to. For the hurt I've caused, I deserve it.

Walking through the streets of Ikebukuro, I take notice to what Shinra was talking about. It almost appears as if a small tornado has shredded through the streets. Extra cracks, like jagged scars, in buildings and pavement. Dents in cars. Bent steel. Vending machines on their sides.

Am I really the cause of all this?

Whether I am or not, his debt is going through the roof at these rates... Shizuo will never be able to pay it off...

Making a mental note of it in my head, I cautiously continue my trek back to Shinjuku, feeling a little too down to explore this city today.

I'm not at all adjusted to losing his warmth, and without him, the world lacks the same purpose that it once did. For now, all I can hope to do is go back to the Orihara Izaya I used to be.


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note:** THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR 400+ REVIEWS. I can't believe we made it here. I'm so glad to hear your feedback on my story! It's always so wonderful to hear what you think. And the favorites and alerts are kind of blowing my mind too. WOW. Holy crap. Thank you!

Makes me wonder how long it will take to get to 500 (if ever) but it just sneaked (such a weird word, IDE) up on me so fast I'm like "WHOAWHOAWHOAWHOA... WAAAALLL-EEEE."

Well. Now that I've acted like an idiot.

HAVE AN UPDATE!

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><p>"You're significantly quieter than usual," Namie scoffs, being the next to berate me.<p>

"Shut up," I tell her, feeling cold as I do everything I can to focus on work.

Not Shizuo. Not migraines. Not this woman. Work. Just work.

"What? Do you think it's a bad thing?" she happily continues, though her small smile is calloused as usual, "Hopefully your headaches have changed you, even if you are still a disgusting excuse for a human being."

"I don't need to hear it," I wince at the comment, gritting my teeth. "I know what I am. Your reminders are unnecessary."

"Snappy, too," she says in a lower voice before taking a seat on the edge of my desk.

It's a bitter reminder of the last time I saw Shizuo.

"Get off," I order. "You have your own desk, so go sit there and get some work done."

Any ordinary employee, working for any ordinary man, would be offended by my crass, dry comment. Not Namie. No, she's pleasantly surprised that I care for once in my life what she does or does not do.

Keeping her bitter smile, does as told, adding, "You're not going to make some sexist joke about 'knowing my role' are you?"

Crinkling my eyebrows in irritation, I try to focus on the influx of work I've given myself just to keep my mind from going in unwarranted directions. "Not in the mood…"

"Then what are you in the mood for?" Namie wonders, taking on a familiar inflection that has my lower stomach churning with a familiar sensation. "Because it seems to me that you could use some stress relief. All of your tension is visible in your face. I'm sure that's bad for your migraines."

Staring at her suspiciously, I make my decision. "I like cold, blunt Namie better than hidden motives Namie. What do you want?"

Crossing her arms with her usual pinch of attitude, she rolls her eyes. "Were you not the one telling me I needed to be a little more playful with you, and less serious? Now when I give you what you specifically asked for it's no good?"

And she's back to normal.

I smirk, mildly impressed with her effort. It only goes to show how desperate she is after leaving her high and dry for so long.

"I never want _you__,_specifically," I scoff, "That would imply that I have underlying feelings for you. I'll take what I can get."

"So correct me if I'm wrong, Izaya. You are still putting up the man-whore routine, are you not?"

Her comment sends a shock of guilt through my chest like an irritated flame. I wish it were as simple as dousing it with a glass of water.

That "routine" is the last thing I left Shizuo with before shattering his dreams. It's what I cling to in order to make everything appear alright on the surface. It's a mask that he sees through with his eyes like dripping, sweet pools of honey. Eyes that could never tell a lie the way I have. Eyes that cannot manipulate or hurt. Eyes that are so bright they could attract moths to their light in pitch darkness.

"How much sleeping around do you think I'm doing when I'm sick eighty-seven percent of the time?" I ask her, failing to chase all thoughts and images of the blond out of my mind.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't been around to be a part of your nightly excursions," she answers, "To be honest, I was surprised at first when you stopped calling me in for your own pleasure."

"It isn't as if you don't enjoy it just as well," I remind her.

"So do you want to sleep with me or not?"

_No. No, I don't. Because you're cold. You are nothing in comparison to his heat. You do not have strong, safe arms. You are _not_ my cure._

"Yeah. Give me five minutes."

* * *

><p>I don't think about Namie at all.<p>

I'm not aiming to please her. I don't care if she's satisfied. She could say her brother's name for all I care.

And this is how it has always been. With all of them. I never once paid any mind to what my partner wanted, never giving a damn if it felt good for them or not. It has always been about me. Each one selfishly devoured by my rampant will. All except for Shizuo.

Despite my trying, I can't stop myself from thinking about how different he was to be with than all the rest. In fact, as far as I'm concerned this woman doesn't even exist.

Slender legs wrap around my waist as I pound into her, her moans mean nothing to me. I don't even bother to use my hands. I don't touch her more than I have to. I don't kiss her. I don't make a sound. And even if I did, she can't see past her hazy eyes, or hear through her moans, my lacking interest.

I want nothing out of this but my own release. Actually, it makes me pretty fucking ill that I can still want this after such a fallout. My self-respect is sinking.

I couldn't care less about perfectly shaped breasts or red lips. Espresso hair, or those bored eyes filled with an uncommon luster for such a dry, humorless woman.

I'm using her, just as I always have. Paying her as if she were my whore rather than my employee, I show her no respect or appreciation. She's nothing more to me than a mouthy hole. And I know it's fucking cold, but I can't stop myself from feeling such things.

Yagiri Namie isn't what I want, or even who I want. Never has been. Never will be.

She's _a play thing_.

A chew toy.

Ignoring her pleas to go slow, I thrust into her hard, wishing nothing more than for all of my uncertainty and anger to be in my release. She can probably feel that I don't truly want her. She can sense my mind is on someone else - someone other than myself for once in my self-centered life.

What she cannot see is that the person on my mind is Shizuo. That I want to be taken again and again by that inhuman strength rather than have my way with her.

His final words to me… the memory of him taking me so easily… his heat inside of me… those fucking eyes from another galaxy.

I've tried so hard to live my life without regrets. Why does simply knowing him make that seem so impossible?

He gave me his heart so that I could turn around and fuck some woman - my secretary with a brother complex.

Namie moans a few inaudible words, her walls clenching around my cock with her powerful orgasm. Not so long ago, I would have found it beautiful. Entertaining. Instead, I decide to hurry up and end this.

Slamming into her - hard - I double over, hardly paying attention to my face buried in her neck as I coat her walls with bitter lust.

Both of us shudder when I pull out, taking a moment to catch our breaths, but never saying a word.

When it is all said and done, she silently slips back into her ugly green sweater before leaving for the night. Scents of lust and deceit still cling to the stale air. In my own bed, I wish that I could be anywhere but here. Dead if necessary.

And so it is with these unyielding thoughts picking apart my vehement greed that I lie awake through the night, unable to decipher my next move.


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's Note:** Is it bad of me to be wondering how many readers I_ lost_ with that bit of IzaNamie? xD

I'm so sorry for those of you who dislike it. I really am. On a certain level, I kind of DO like it. And if Izaya_ wasn't_ a raging homosexual, they are a perfect match. Besides, he does think she's pretty. His words; not mine. :3

Anyway, haters gon' hate. It's all a matter of opinion. Though it's not like I did it just to do it. It has purpose.

I mean _come on._ If I really did go for it that hard, don't you think I might be a tad more descriptive? I hate writing heterosexual sex.

* * *

><p>It's as Martin Luther King, Jr. once said… "<em>Each of us is something of a schizophrenic personality, tragically divided against ourselves<em>."

I don't even know myself anymore. My actions… it's as if they're happening on their own, like I'm watching myself make mistake after mistake from the back of my own mind.

Who the fuck am I? Unable to choose these verdicts… thriving on the impulsive need to suppress everything even though it visibly seeps through the cracks of my insidious being.

The images flash through my head like blinding beams of light, disabling my thoughts with each one that goes off.

No feelings of affection or admiration dwell in my heart for Namie. Hell, I don't even like women all that much. And using her? It's nothing I want. It's… nothing.

What am I supposed to do now? If I could list off every crime I've ever committed and burn it, I could only ever wish that it would eliminate the scars. Take it back. _Something!_

Without him here, I just can't think straight. A week and a half later, I'm putting on this face for the public as if the blond never existed in this life of mine, when in reality he is stuck in my head like a catchy song - the kind with the cute, but corny, verses about sentimental values.

What else do I plan to try before he is gone from my memory?

The idea of taking another person to bed with me makes me ill; the irony in which is that I just have.

All it does is confuse me. One step forward, five steps back. I'll never get where I need to go. I'll never find freedom amongst this imprisonment of madness.

Shizuo told me he loved me. So I threw it in his face. I did not give him a chance. I did not open the idea up for discussion. I barely even thought it over before deciding it was a horrible idea if only to shove him out of my world to pretend that nobody gave a damn about me.

As his first time for everything, I probably ruined him for life, only to turn around and sleep with a woman who has incestuous feelings for her fifteen-year-old brother.

Talk about trashy. Talk about sick.

Calling him to check on how he's doing is the very least I could do, but I'm too weak to even go that far. Too screwed up to consider the rights and the wrongs. Too deprave to sort them out or make amends; selfishly asking myself what love has ever done right for me.

I am a disgusting excuse for human life, aren't I? A true whore to humanity; playing it off like it's love for a species rather than an extreme loathing for myself.

I swore he wouldn't end up like the others, but this… This is worse.

Wretched as it seems, I struggle to leave my bed over the next few days. Not because of pain. No. It is because I have never been so disappointed in myself. I've never felt so filthy. So used up and dirty that I can't even stand to wonder what my reflection looks like.

I wish I could just stop breathing, but I'm too great of a coward to even consider suicide. I'm too selfish to do everyone a favor like that.

I think I deserve to be force fed paint thinner until it kills me. I've never felt so emotionally low in my adult life. Until this week, I never had a reason to.

I used to pride myself on talent and heartlessness. I used to be unstoppable.

What of me now? When all I can think about is everything I've done to hurt one person. One person I should despise with a malevolent passion.

If there exists a higher power, say God, He's kicking my ass.

Vibrating on the bedside table, my cell phone steals a moment of my attention. Not at all surprising is Shiki's name flashing on the screen. Contemplating whether or not I have any real reason to answer, I decide it's better than half a dozen yakuza men showing up at my door if I don't.

"What?" is my crass greeting.

"Your boyfriend just took out twelve of my men, Orihara-san," Shiki says in his usual business-appropriate manner.

"What do I care?"

"Hm. Not denying that he's your significant other?"

"Would it matter?" I scoff, "You wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Maybe not."

"Are you going to do anything about it?" I wonder, half-worried.

For reasons unknown, I'm taken back to a very familiar conversation. When strength is not enough, are my words really strong enough to save him? Shiki can be relentless and cold. Completely unforgiving and difficult to sway.

Panic begins to flood my chest, shortening my breathing as the possibilities come to mind. If anything were to happen to him at this point, after what I've done, I am responsible.

"For the time being, no," Shiki tells me, removing half the weight from my shoulders. "However, if he keeps it up, you know I won't have a choice. I'll shoot him myself."

"If you do shoot him you know you'll have to shoot me next, ne?" I warn him, suddenly jumping to wonder if it was a bad idea to say anything at all.

"That's what worries me," the executive sighs, "Your hiding is hurting the people you care about. If I don't get to him first, you know somebody else will."

"What do you expect me to do?" I grumble, unable to admit it to myself. Just like the coward I deny that I am.

"Come clean."

"Tch..."

"You know I mean that. Accept everything for what it is. Accept your feelings as well as your past, and catch him before it's too late. Do what you couldn't do for me."

"I don't love him," I growl through clenched teeth.

"Izaya," the man on the other line uses my first name for the first time since leaving him. My breath catches in my throat at the sound. "Stop. Stop throwing away all of these things that you need. Stop denying yourself of what every human being can't lead an extraordinary life without. You know you've fallen. Now pick yourself up, and for once in your life, do what's right, because as young and as beautiful as you are, you're never going to get another chance like this one."

Swallowing a hard lump in my throat, I hang up on the man I once called my lover; wishing that by any means he is wrong.

With a sickening feeling eating away at my stomach, I know what I have to do; yet I have never been so terrified to do it.

"_People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own soul_."


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note:** I have soooo much stuff to do and no motivation to do any of it. I guess it's good that I still have something to update. God only knows how little writing I've gotten done. Lol

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><p>For what I've done to hurt him - despite all he has done to save me - a simple apology will do no good. It could never be enough to atone.<p>

I know better than to think I can talk my way out of this one. And I doubt there is anything I can say or do to make up for it.

Shizuo deserves better than the hell I've put him through all of these years, and especially over the past two weeks. Meanwhile, I deserve eternal agony; to live with the pain in my head and the pain in my chest until they kill me.

Riddled with guilt, I'm willing to live with it for an undying eternity if I have to.

I never should have put him through all of this. It's my fault. I am the one responsible for everything. And now, I'm worried for the idiot's safety. I have to be.

Shiki is right. With the destruction Shizuo is causing, there are no doubts that the gangs are getting anxious. _Scared_. He's probably on edge, accusing every suspicious detail of being something much larger than it is. Nobody wants to sneak around him, even knowing they don't have much in the way of options. Most of the people he and Tom deal with have some sort of yakuza relations. People are surely upset. And I am to blame.

Making the decision to make some sort of amends, I force myself out of bed, dreading every step; blaming Rene Descartes for his stupid problem solving techniques. They had better work, or nothing will.

This is all I have left to wipe my slate clean in Shizuo's eyes. The entire world could hate me at this point. I don't care. But for some deplorable reason, the thought of Shizuo recovering his old sentiments toward me begins a nervous churning in my stomach.

I hate to admit that I might be wrong for once in my life, but what more can I do? No action I take can truly justify my former decision making. I'm tired of running away. I'm sick of trying to make myself believe that I really am impervious to the same pains as everybody else.

Was it ever meant to last? Or was it only a matter of time before I broke down entirely?

The combination of numbers and words scrawled across the computer screen seem to blend together the longer they stare back at me. Rubbing my tired eyes, I try to keep my thoughts straight as I swirl into a mild vertigo again. The bright light is fairly irritating, even in the middle of the day, but I pull through, sending a quick, detailed email and clicking the right links here and there.

I still have a few decent connections who owe me favors. Hopefully, they're still threatened enough to pull through accordingly.

As I wait for each confirmation to come through, all of which backing a well-devised plan, I know in the depths of my soul that doing this won't be nearly enough. Even I know that money can only take a person so far until its worth is null. With this man especially, it doesn't mean much of anything. And for once in my life, I'm not sure if I want to buy my way out.

The prospect feels cheap, dirty, dishonest.

He really is unlike anyone else I have ever met before... Impacting my decisions this way. I almost hate to think that his morality is actually rubbing off on me.

Eating away at me, the last question of step three remains.

Is it actually possible? Do I love Heiwajima Shizuo?

It's the kind of feeling that makes you ask yourself if things could get worse as you pace back and forth, trapped in thoughts painful, scrutinizing, and all around ridiculous.

Feelings you don't think you have eat at you like the ravenous flames of a wildfire as you consider things you haven't thought of in years. It all seems so stupid; yet you cannot prevent yourself from clinging to every word of denial emitting from that incessant voice in your head. You want to believe its numerous lies just as you have for years, fighting the belief that truth has finally caught up to you.

Even great kings of men have faced pain - satire. Even Gods are known to face trying times.

John Locke suggested Tabula Rasa. We are all blank slates, faced to be shaped by empiricism. Knowledge obtained by experience. Nature versus nurture.

I can't help but think that maybe my slate was dirty from the start, while not necessarily written, or used, that somewhere along the lines of my creation a nonexistent higher power dropped it in the mud, or cracked it in its making, ruining me no matter what choices I make.

I'm defective. Forever destined to be an insidious thorn in love's tender side.

Tied to the opposing end of my red string of fate is not another person - certainly not Shizuo - but certain death and loneliness.

"_Are you a lonely person, Orihara-san_?"

Those words appear in my head just as they have almost every day since they were first summoned to my attention.

Cringing, I snuff the desire to say yes.

I will always attempt to be stronger than I actually am because nobody is ever here long enough to stop the delusions in their warpath.

So, do I love that idiot brute and his over-produced vehement wrath to make me feel what scares me the most? Does my need really run deeper than physical contact each time he has ever melted me with indescribable heat?

I don't know myself anymore. I don't know that I ever did.

Perhaps my guard has been up all of this time not to protect me from what lies before my own walls, but to keep from hurting myself with what is locked behind them.

What do I do with this? What is anybody supposed to do?

I've hit a dead end. That much couldn't be more obvious.

Every conversation, every kiss, every touch, every fucking embrace plays like a home movie in my twisted head, forcing my heart into erratic putters. Breathtaking beats that warn me how truly irreplaceable a person like Shizuo really is.

"It's the constant, bracing shock of now, and it's the whole damn world turned inside out."

Little choice remains.

Hesitation only has him drifting farther out of my reach.


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note:** Aaaah! Sorry. This is overdue!

But I hope you enjoy it! Thank you!

* * *

><p>A wet, windy April afternoon gives a gloomy greeting when I step outside, shivering slightly as I draw my coat closer to my body. Cold spring days like this are rare as Japan pulls into the radiant warmth of summer, but they still exist from time to time.<p>

Choosing to stay out of the on and off downpour while I can, I hail a cab to Ikebukuro with little time to waste as it is.

After calling Shizuo several times, I accept his refusal to answer. Any sensible man would… given the circumstances. At least he's learning… albeit much too late for either of us to be happy.

Tch. Was I ever _truly_ happy?

Well, I suppose that if the world made any logical sense at all, I wouldn't be doing this right now, would I? Hell, maybe it does make sense. Maybe all of those chases throughout all of these years have actually counted toward something.

Perhaps _I _don't make sense.

Paying the driver once we reach the center of Ikebukuro, I step out of the vehicle, prepared for everything I have to do; swearing to myself that I will not fail again.

Loaded up on painkillers, the oncoming migraine still leaks through the cracks of the chemical barrier. A warning sign that I do not have much time to find him; so I quietly hope he finds me first. Just as he always has.

Beginning the hunt, I hurry, acknowledging my time limit while looking sharp around every corner.

With no avail, I scour the city for his presence, hoping a crack in the pavement or a wrecked gachapon machine will lead me in his direction. Instead, all I find are traces of former destruction, steadily being repaired as I move along, ignoring the sounds as best I can; hiding behind dark sunglasses from intrusive light.

Following his proper routes from one place to another, Russia Sushi to the corner store where he buys his cigarettes, it's almost as if he had never been here at all.

In a world so black and white, he's always been a red dot on my radar. I'm like a captain of a ship, knowing all there is about the seas I sail, save for this one mysterious creature who shows up every now and again just to get my blood pumping.

I wouldn't know what to do with myself… I'd lose all purpose to exist if he is really lost to me forever.

"But I know him," I remind myself in a whisper, "He wouldn't just leave…"

At this point, I'm beginning to wonder... I've never come into this city and lasted this long without some sort of sign. However, we've both changed. I feel different, and I know he feels it too.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I wonder if I even have any helpful allies left in this world. I'm sure that everyone who hated me before is just that much more disgusted by me for what I've done to Shizuo, Shinra being the prime example of such.

Pride still standing in my way, I grimace, convincing myself that I do not need anyone's help to find him. I can do it on my own, without their "I told you's" and dirty looks to discourage me. They could never understand the relationship between us, let alone the feelings within me as an individual. And nobody in this world knows more about the real Orihara Izaya than Shizuo does. Nobody.

Bustling with human activity or not, Ikebukuro feels empty without him close to me. Even the blinding lights and bright colors are dull in my eyes.

By the time I'm sure that I've searched ever park, bakery, McDonalds, and even his own apartment building, I've still found no trace that my cruelty has not actually chased him away.

He would not be the first I've driven to a breaking point...

The thought alone is enough to burn my eyes with fragments of tears.

Don't be gone, Shizu-chan. Please don't.

I need you… I need you to fix me…

"Izaya…?"

Startled, I whip my head around, ready to find my wish granted by a pair of eyes like their own individual galaxies staring back at me.

My heart instantaneously plummets to my feet when this is not the case.

"Dotachin…" I mumble miserably, dropping my gaze to the pavement.

He folds his arms, narrowing his eyes as they scan me up and down. "Where the hell have you been, Izaya?"

"Ne? What do you mean?" I wonder, unable to find the right mask to hide behind. It isn't in my heart to pretend today. In fact, I don't think it'd be possible as long as I'm this miserable.

"I heard you left Tokyo."

Blinking back incredulity, I furrow my eyebrows, "Of course not! Who told you that?"

"The rumors have been floating around for a while now," Kadota explains, readjusting his hat. "Not sure who started them, but everyone's been talking. A lot more now since the Shizuo incident three days ago."

My heart, which is still at my feet, lurches. "Shizuo incident?" I echo nervously.

"Yeah. I figured if anybody knew about it, it'd be an informant like you."

I shake my head, outwardly denying responsibility for anything that could have happened to him since leaving my apartment.

"He's been in jail since Tuesday."

"WHAT? What for?"

"You really don't know any of this?" my high school friend suspiciously inquires; speaking in volumes just by the caution in his serious brown eyes.

"Kadota," I sigh, figuring that if I can tell anyone the truth, it has got to be this guy, "I've been sick with chronic migraines for the past nine months…"

"What…? Really?"

Nodding, I explain. "I've been around here and there, but for the most part, I've been stuck at home. Shizuo has been with me since February taking care of me. We got into an argument not too long ago, and he left. I haven't seen him since. Until he left I'd actually been paying him to help me out."

"You're joking, right?" the man frowns, unable to believe such a farfetched story.

However, it's just too crazy to be a lie…

I can't help but chortle anxiously. "I wish I was. If you don't believe me, Celty and Shinra will confirm it."

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Not on purpose…" I mutter, feeling disgustingly small. "Look, I know how it sounds. Believe me, I do. But I have to talk to him before it's too late…"

Kadota swallows my story, accepting it despite his suspicions. Knowing me the way he does, we have a mutual understanding of the way I am; probably because he's the only person to ever turn me down. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew I was a wreck before I did.

"Then you'd better go set the record straight. He's being accused of a murder that took place across the street from Raira a few weeks ago, and I know he didn't do it."

"Murder?" I gasp; blood running cold. "Who?"

"Finding out is your specialty, not mine. All I know is that he wasn't even around when it happened. Witnesses in Dollars saw him heading toward Shinjuku that day after you two met on the streets. If what you say is true, he was with you that night. Not sure why, but apparently the evidence points back to him. I'm guessing that with his current rampages lately, they police just made a decision to blame him to calm everyone down."

"What the hell! That's bullshit!" I hiss, feeling uncontrollably defensive. "Shizuo wouldn't kill somebody, no matter how much they might deserve it!"

"I know. That's what I'm saying," my old friend keeps his cool, agreeing with my irritation. "I can give you a ride to police department if you want."

Sparing no time, I ignore the pit expanding like a black hole in my stomach, and accept.


	44. Chapter 44

**Author's Note:** WOW. I feel like this weekend is unending, and I need sleep.

I just felt like drawing, though. So I'm awake. I'd really love to take a break from writing so that I could draw more, but stories are soooo addicting. If it were easy to split my time between the two, I'd be able to practice soooo much more!

Thank you for the reviews/faves/alerts, as always. It's so great to hear what you're thinking, especially when predictions are made. :3

* * *

><p>This place is disgustingly grim, like something you see out of a crappy made-for-TV horror film about the twilight zone; perfectly fitting of the dark gray sky looming over my head. All I can think about is Shizuo, wondering if he is okay in there. It's no actual prison, but it looks horrible enough as it is.<p>

He doesn't deserve to be in there.

Waving goodbye to Kadota, I give him a look of thanks which also lets him know that I'm okay to do this on my own. He and his younger friend drive away, disappearing behind a wall of heavy rain.

It's probably best to get out of this weather.

Using what remains of my fleeting courage, I walk inside toward the front desk, where the secretary gives me a questioning look. I'm sure I resemble something akin to a drown rat in my fur trimmed coat. I'm soaked to the bone; numb from all but an expanding headache.

"Can I help you?" the woman asks as if I'm ready to turn myself in. Perhaps I should.

"Yes. I'm looking for Heiwajima Shizuo. I've been told he's in holding."

"Are you here to post his bail?"

"No…"

"Are you his lawyer…?"

Do I fucking _look_ like a lawyer?

"No," I huff, "I'm his less-than-significant other. And it's important that I see him."

"I'm sorry, sir," she tells me in a way that says she really isn't. "We don't allow visitors."

"Not even if they're here to provide a proper alibi for a crime he didn't commit?"

"Who are you?" her suspicions grow.

"You've probably heard of me," I say, removing my sunglasses, "My name is Orihara Izaya. I'm _kind of_ a big deal."

She gasps in recognition.

"Now are you going to let me speak to him or not?"

Mouth hanging agape, the secretary reaches for her desk phone, quickly dialing a short extension to inform her boss of my presence.

Not ten minutes pass before they give me the information on Shizuo's arrest, only to be countered with a legitimate story on my end. I even go as far as to have them call my doctor to confirm my poor health.

"So there you have it. You have the wrong guy."

"I just never would have thought…"

"Yeah… well…"

"You can go back," the police captain tells me, pointing down the hall, "We'll just process his paperwork before sending you both on your way."

I don't bother to thank him as I follow the white and blue walls to where Shizuo is held captive.

Suddenly overwhelmed, my breath becomes short and hurried gasps for air and I make my way to him as quietly as I can.

The sight would be painful for anyone who feels the way I do…

Paint flakes from the painted white bars he sits behind with his face buried in his hands. His breathing is so shallow it's as if he were made of stone, almost leading me to believe he's asleep until he slowly raises his head to stare at the cement with distant eyes, vacant of their usual glitter. Instead, that celestial gleam has been exchanged for dark, puffy bags, adding ten years of age to his tense face.

My mind is begging me to run, while my heart keeps my feet planted where I stand, refusing to give in to the trembling of my knees.

This hurts…

"Shizu-chan…?"

He flinches in reaction to a nickname designed only for my use and clenches his angular jaw.

"What do you want?" he asks, sounding much more miserable than he actually looks.

"Came to get you out of here," I tell him, unable to look away.

"You didn't need to do that," he mutters, refusing to make eye contact with me.

"If not me, then who?"

"Kasuka is on his way," he lies.

I call him out on it immediately. "No he's not. The officer up front said you hadn't even made your phone call yet."

"So?"

"I set the record straight. They're finalizing a few things and letting you out any minute now."

Shizuo scoffs, a sarcastic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He says nothing, leaving it to me to break the silence. There are so many things I want to say. Yet, now that I'm here before him, they have all completely evaporated. Frantically, my mind races to catch the words before they're gone.

I feel like such an idiot…

After a long, tense silence, I finally decide to fill what I can of the void.

The words are trapped behind so much… Torn feelings, guilt, pain…

My head is slowly throbbing, finding semblance of peace in this tense silence surrounding the two of us. I wonder if maybe it's a good idea just to speak without thinking. To just let everything come naturally.

"I paid the rest of your debt," I tell him timidly.

"Shouldn't have…"

"I wanted to. You deserve it."

"The hell I do," Shizuo clearly disagrees. "Have you seen this fucking city?"

I nod, even though he isn't looking at me. "I'm as much to blame for it as you are. If not more."

"Glad you can admit that," he bitterly hisses, sending chills down my spine. "But you're as stupid as I am if you think this changes anything."

Swallowing my heart before it stays lodged in my throat forever, I lean against the jail cell bars. "I know it doesn't," I tell him, holding back the burning pressure behind my eyes. "It's not an apology. I did it because I wanted to."

"Whatever," he rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious. I didn't even know you were here until an hour ago."

"Bull shit! You're probably the reason I'm here to begin with!"

"What?" I jolt, feeling my body begin to shake. "Shizuo? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Tch. You heard me, you damn flea. I bet you framed me again."

Hurt and offended, I remove my gaze from him. "If that were the case, I wouldn't be here getting you out…"

"Honestly? I don't care what your excuse is considering that most of what you say is a fucking lie."

"I haven't lied to you about anything," I shoot back, holding my fists at my sides. "I may be scared as all hell, but I know for a fact I haven't lied! And I'm damn positive that I haven't spent my afternoon searching for you in the pouring rain so that I could, at the _very_ least, apologize to you!"

"Apologize all you want, Izaya. I have nothing left to say to you."

Fully turning his back to me, Shizuo goes back to pretending I'm not here.

"Then don't," I snap, frustrated and broken. The tears which I've been holding back for so long finally defeat me. "Don't say anything, but I'm not done speaking yet. Don't forget that _you're_ the one who confessed to _me,_ Shizuo! You're the one who said _you_ love me. And do you have any idea how fucking mortifying that is? When all anybody who has _ever_ said them has done is leave me? Do you have any idea what it's like to hear somebody say those words and not feel scathed by them? You want to know what hurt me?"

"…." I get nothing but silence from him as I prepare myself to spill those skeletons I've been avoiding.

"Love. Love hurt me. Being told time and time again by a voice on the other end of a phone line and forcing myself to accept that a voice is all it ever was! A voice. No face. No warmth. No promise. So don't you dare treat me like I feel this way for no reason. Don't you dare act like I don't have a legitimate purpose for blocking you out the way I do. Because the very _last_ thing I want is to sit back and force myself to pretend that it never happened. You think I like being this way? Being called a slut? Sleeping around to bury my own insecurities? Being alone? I do it because I know from experience that it's far better than being let down in the end."

"…"

"I give myself away, because - as lonely as it is - it's the easiest way to feel wanted without attachment. Believe it or not, I'm not heartless. I just can't stand to have it broken again." I scoff, "But it's a bit late for that, isn't it? I don't want to fall in love. I don't want to hurt like that."

I stop to catch my breath, ultimately making a cheap attempt to calm myself down before my pulsating migraine explodes, taking my head with it. My chest is tight, my stomach sick. I already know I've said too much.

Continuing in a softer tone, I hang my head, perfectly ready to escape this place and move on with my miserable existence.

"And all at once, I've never loved anyone half as much as I love you."


	45. Chapter 45

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the love! Really! Thank you~

But I'm not sure I deserve it. xD

* * *

><p>Unable to withstand more rejection, I don't wait for a response from Shizuo after thirty seconds or so. If he hasn't responded by now, he isn't going to. I've said all I can say - even some I wasn't ready to confess even to myself. There's no point. My heart is too heavy to withstand more abuse, even if I am responsible for it all. To wait around for something that will never come will only cause more damage in the end. To both of us, and I'm not sure how I would live with myself (not that I'm sure now) if I fucked him over the same way as was done to me.<p>

He's softer than I am at heart. The pain would surely kill him.

As Shiki once decided, there is no good in being hung up over someone who has thrown you out of their life.

To feel this all over again… to remember why I stay away in the first place, always being the one to leave instead of being left… To know that there will never be enough words to reverse this…

The look in his eyes is enough.

I truly would rather be lonely.

This burden is too much for me to carry on my own, even if it does belong to me.

The intensity in his eyes is so strong it cannot be read. He watches me carefully, undoubtedly waiting for me to laugh some snide remark in his face, treating my confession like it's one big joke. He wants to hear that I did this to him on purpose. He wants to believe that it's all a lie.

I turn away, not even offering a final goodbye. I've caused enough damage to last not one, but two lifetimes.

* * *

><p>Outside, the rain is falling harder than before. The dark, desolate sensation hanging over my shoulder is as thick as the black clouds overhead.<p>

What am I supposed to do now? Where do I go next? Without him, does it even matter? Without him, what's the point?

I've said my piece knowing that it would fail. I've done all I can do, no matter how hard it is to shake the feeling that my best will never be enough.

The great Orihara Izaya is nothing more than a wet rat. An unwanted coward at best, shooing away anyone who dares put the pieces back in place for him.

Indecisive and miserable, it's almost impossible to make up my mind…

Perhaps I should just leave this city permanently. Leave Tokyo. Leave Japan. Eliminate myself from the memories of all those I've scarred and crushed to get to the top, if only to fall all the way down.

Nobody wants me here. I don't deserve to stay.

I could begin a new life elsewhere, wipe my cracked slate clean to begin anew; pretend my heart has never felt so heavy. So full of regret.

_Shizuo… you were so much more…_

When I promised he would not be like the others, how could I have suspected this? How could I have known I'd fall so easily? For him! For my enemy!

I've been so wrong…

Standing beneath the downpour, I find myself numb save for the stinging burn in my chest. Not even the tears in my eyes are felt as the rain washes them away.

Is it okay to give up? Can I throw in the towel, promising myself that this will never happen again? And how am I supposed to just stop feeling for someone who has been so much more than anything I've ever had? Someone who makes me feel alive when the physical pain is so intense and so overwhelming that maybe I'd be better off dead…

How the hell am I supposed to move on? How do you let that go?

If I had never been so stupid as to let myself fall, denying it all the while, I wouldn't have to ask myself such pathetic questions… Life would be exactly as it was meant to be, keeping the natural order where I hate him and he hates me.

My head is a wreck, and for the second time in my worthless life, my heart has been shattered.

Fears faced too late are worse than fears never faced at all, I've decided.

* * *

><p>Hypnotic neon lights, flashing through the storm, dragged me into a bar little over an hour ago.<p>

When I trudged in, soaked to the bone, the bartender flashed me a look of suspicious uncertainty, asking who would be crazy enough to get caught up in the weather. With a cynical chuckle, I had easily lied as I so often do, telling him I hadn't checked the forecast.

He's been under the belief that I'm in here to escape the rain because, once again, I hide my true feelings behind a different face.

With the excuse that I need something to warm me up, I convinced him to give me a bottle of vodka. By now, I've lost count of the shots; yet my head keeps throbbing and my heart keeps breaking more and more.

I'd love to go home and die - to rot in a drunken stupor until I forget Shizuo's name and face. Until the sound of his voice is muted and the warmth of his skin is nothing more than a dream. I want this until I remember that it is my apartment where I fell for him to begin with, and it's the mistakes we made in my bedroom that have me sitting alone in this bar right now.

I'll have to set fire to those sheets…

I told him everything… the very worst of my skeletons. The biggest of my fears. The heaviest of my secrets. Everything I always tried to keep hidden from even myself.

Paying the bartender a much larger sum of money than what I owe, I slip my drenched coat back over my shoulders.

"You sure you're alright to go out there, sir?" he asks me as I head for the door.

Pausing, I briefly take in his words, treating them with much more seriousness than they entail. "Yeah," I nod, noticing for the first time that my vision is off. The world is coated in a familiar glittering mist. "I've seen worse."

I can see through my hazy eyes that he is truly hesitant to let me go, as I am surely more of a danger to myself than any natural force beyond the door. However, I've done this to myself - intentionally.

"Besides," I slur with a smirk, pushing the door open with my back as I keep my inebriated eyes fixated on his concerned stare, "Your kindness is much more than I deserve."

When I am back on the streets the realization slowly dawns on me that I have just left the same bar where Shizuo used to work, making me wonder if heartache really does follow that cliché where the person who needs to be forgotten seems to follow the one who needs to forget.

The uncertainty is throwing my mind into a crazy panic. This is everything I've been trying to avoid all these years. This is exactly what I was running from. And who wouldn't? How could anybody actually want to set themselves of for this type of failure?

"Lost" is hardly an adequate word to suit how I feel right now as I frantically search for an escape. The alcohol in my system has all but given me a boost of courage. If anything, I'm more fearful than I ever was.

The rain just keeps crashing down to earth with a rage similar to that of the man I can't forget; trapping me in a web of memories I don't want to keep or let go.

I've reached a fork in the road. Both paths lead to eternal misery. Either way I'm screwed, so why can't I just make up my mind and give it all up? Why can't I make myself vanish? Why can't I be anywhere but here?

I want out. I want to breathe again.


	46. Chapter 46

**Author's Note:** I am sooooo tired. I even woke up late. Granted, I don't have to get ready to go anywhere for another half hour, but I'm still ultra sleepy! I think it might be the weather. It was raining early this morning, but now it's clear. What the hell! Come back, rain!

Thank you guys, as always. Given the point in the story, I'm really eager to see what your thoughts are. :3

* * *

><p>Completely exhausted, I find that aimlessly wandering around a city that doesn't want me is of absolutely no help whatsoever. I'm foolishly wasting time; achieving nothing but greater pain as I go. Yet, it isn't as if I don't have time to waste. I, myself, am a waste. I, myself, have nothing to contribute to this world and all of its inhabitants.<p>

The combination of factors working against me - wet clothing, alcohol, sore muscles, a damn migraine barely dulled by said alcohol - heavily slow me down a street before Sunshine, demanding inevitable surrender.

Feeling that no matter how much I breathe, I will never catch my breath, I lean against the nearest wall - head back, eyes closed as if offering my body to death for the taking.

I think, in a way, I'm fortunate that Ikebukuro is relatively empty today. Then again... I almost wish the world could see me in agony. I want them all to know that it's exactly as they said. My sins are catching up to me, eating me alive.

Why couldn't I have faced my fears from the beginning? Why did I have to let it go this far? Was I looking to crash and burn?

"Heh. So the rumors got it wrong, did they?" an unfamiliar voice reaches my ears, barely echoing through the rain. "The notorious information broker is alive and back in action."

"Is he now?" I lazily slur back, silently acknowledging my new company's tone with suspicion. I mask it with a snide chuckle. "Send him my regards."

"The boss always said he liked your sense of humor."

"Tch. Who said I was being humorous?" I scoff, opening my eyes before blinking away the blurred doubles until they mesh into one. I recognize the bastard immediately. "If anything, you're the funny man here. Showing your face like this. Shiki-san would have your head. Hell, I might even be willing to give it to him myself, ne?"

The man clumsily jumps back as I smoothly extract my switchblade from my coat pocket, pointing it at his throat. He trembles for a moment, gripped by fear as he underestimates me, unaware that I am the weakest I have ever been.

"Awh. Don't tell me you're scared," I smirk, stepping closer. "I thought we could have some fun before I drag you back to Headquarters. What do you think about that?"

"Y-you got it all wrong, man," he stutters, dropping a conspicuous baseball bat, which I can determine is simply for a threatening show.

By the way he shakes, he is completely lacking in the intestinal fortitude to actually use the thing. Why does Shiki-san even waste his time on idiots like these? And why has hired me to catch the weasel? Now that I see him face-to-face, it seems like an easy waste of a decent amount of money on the executive's part.

What a pathetic load of crap.

I could take this guy blind with both hands tied behind my back.

"_Wrong_?" I echo, "My information is _never_ wrong."

"I can explain! I can -"

Keeping myself together, I grab the rat by the collar of his shirt, pressing the sharp edge of the blade to his skin; effectively silencing him. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm screaming at myself over this. This isn't right. This is nowhere near my usual method.

This is not how I attack.

I'm not like this… impulsive…

I'm calculated, clean, and easy - never using a weapon as a threat, but rather a method of self-defense.

But this…? Where is it coming from?

Anger and resentment feel like a punch to the chest as I keep my victim pinned beneath my blade.

The tables turn all too quickly when the loud scream of breaks pierce the veil of rain still falling vigorously around me.

Doubling over, I lose my hold to the feeling of nails being hammered into my head. Dropping my knife, I fall to my knees unable to escape the shock.

"Ngh…"

This can't be happening. Not now. Please… not now.

There is nothing I can do as the pain takes over, spreading through my skull and down my spine. Easily forcing my surrender. As usual it strikes me down as if I were nothing more than a dead tree in the midst of a tornado's windy wrath.

Time ran short as I knew it would.

Fighting against chronic agony, I've nearly forgotten about the moron I've just victimized until I sense him hovering over me, no longer fearful of my presence.

"You're kidding right?" he asks himself, incredulous. "This has gotta be a joke!"

I wish it were as the pain crushes me in its clutches.

Still wary, the imbecile nudges me with a tacky, cheap boot; becoming a bit more confident when I don't pull him to the pavement like I want to.

"No way!" he chortles, taking a step back. "So maybe the rumors aren't complete bull!"

"The fuck do you know about it?" I hiss through clenched teeth, holding my head in one hand as I attempt to push myself off the cement with the other.

"Not so fast!" he warns me when I'm half way up, naturally kicking me back to the ground as cowardly jerks like these usually do.

Tch… And I'm no better.

"I wonder what the boys would think if I went back and told 'em that I just kicked the infamous Orihara Izaya's ass?" he laughs at the thought of his own maniacal plan as he strings it together. "Or even better! What would Shiki-san think? He'd probably back off right away! Pay me off or somethin'!"

"Wouldn't count on it," I grumble, forcing my smirk to stay put. I may deserve this, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to give this bastard the satisfaction. "Beating a man while he's down just makes you more of a bitch, in my opinion."

"Huh? I wouldn't be getting snippy with me if I were you," he glowers, insulted.

"Snippy? Don't be like that. I'm only being honest."

"You? An info broker? _Honest_? Yeah right!"

The words pack a specific burn, taking me back two hours in time to Shizuo's accusation. I might hide, but I don't generally lie.

Pacing a few steps to the right, the former Awakusu-kai subordinate stoops down to pick up his bat; giving me an opportunity to reach for switchblade.

"Whoa! I don't think so!" he shouts as my fingers coil around the hilt.

Forced to let go, I hold back from crying out - as if anyone would hear me - when he digs his fucking heel into my hand hard enough that I hear multiple bones crack, sending a vicious pain shooting up through my arm.

"Ngh... So much for a fair fight," I breathe.

I've never felt so relieved as I do when he removes his foot from my hand, allowing me to take it back and hold it against my chest.

"Have you ever even killed anyone with this toothpick?" he taunts, waving my weapon around with pride.

"Would you like to find out?" I ask, fixing him with a deadly glare.

All threat, however, is gone. He has picked up on my weakness; now shamelessly using it to his advantage.

"I'm actually not all that interested in pickin' a fight," he explains, hanging his bat over his shoulder while he continues to twirl my knife between his fingers. The image of him defiling what's mine has me helplessly on edge. "But now that I've got you here like this, I think I'm gonna make sure you can't run to Shiki-san and rat me out."

"Tch. You're no killer," I scoff, making a second attempt to stand.

"What makes you think I'm not?"

"You're not."

Provoked ire lights in his muddy brown eyes. Pocketing my knife, he takes the wooden baseball bat in both hands. By his stance alone I can see he has never played the sport in his life, though I'll give him credit for trying.

"You know if you kill me you're just as dead as I am. They _will_ find you."

"Right, just like they found me after I killed that businessman?"

My blood runs cold.

"You of all people should be happy, Orihara-san! In fact, I think I deserve a reward. It's all cause of me that Heiwajima Shizuo is in jail now."

"_You?_!" I snap.


	47. Chapter 47

**Author's Note:** I... don't know what I'm doing right now. But I'm not writing. And that's kind of sad.

In other news, there's a 365 challenge going on that I've just started. I'm going to take part in the drawing and writing sides of the challenge and try to draw/write something everyday for the next year. For the writing, they will only be DRABBLES so I won't do anything extravagant. Just simple stuff.

I'm taking suggestions, so if you're interested, leave me your ideas as a question on tumblr: anotheralterego . tumblr . com (remove the spaces obviously).

Sound good?

Thank you! :3

* * *

><p>"I know, right? I could hardly believe it myself!" he cackles, "Cops couldn't figure out who I was. Apparently, beating someone to death with this puppy -" he waves his bat around once again, "- is similar to that crazy bastard's fists. Dunno how they figured that, but it works out for me! And you too! Or it would, if you weren't about to die, yourself."<p>

"That's where you're wrong," I make a bold move to say, swallowing my fear and my pride, "I just got Shizu-chan out of jail a few hours ago. You kill me and the police will be back on your trail within hours... that is to say,_ if_ Shizuo doesn't hunt you down first."

"Whaaat? That's bull! There you go lying again! Everyone in 'Bukuro knows you two hate each other's guts!"

Damn it, this guy is seriously delusional, and I've already underestimated him twice.

"If only that were still the case, I wouldn't be standing here right now. So what do you say? Make this a fair fight?"

He stares at me with wide, soulless eyes which become more vindictive by the second. I wonder if this is how people see me. As a heartless, insane piece of garbage, ready to strike down anyone in my way. But as easy as it is to destroy a life, I could never take one…

The effects of the vodka still mess with my head, adding to the incessant pain. And if that's not enough, my broken hand is bleeding down my arm while the rain does little to wash away the ruby fluid.

I already know that I can't win with so much going against me, but for what he has done to Shizuo, I can't back down either.

"Fine," the former subordinate agrees. "But if you're really one of 'Bukuro's strongest, you can fight me without a knife."

"And your stick?" I smirk, insulting his weapon of choice.

"What about it?"

"Fair enough."

Without warning, the idiot swings, sending me jumping back several meters. It feels good to know I still have some fight left in me, but I can already tell it won't last long. My parkour skills have gone unused in the recent months. I"m definitely weaker.

"I'm disappointed already," I mock him, "Shizu-chan has way more skill than you do. It's an insult to his person that the police would mistake your form for his!"

Running at me, he swings again, barely missing as I duck out of the way, kicking him in the knee as hard as I can. He stumbles, but does not fall.

For a moment, I forget that I'm still drunk when he nearly hits me again. Consequently, my reflexes are significantly slower than usual. I trip backwards, rolling my ankle.

"Fuck..." I hiss through the pain, reestablishing balance in time to miss yet another swing.

There's no way I can hit this guy. I'm already losing too much energy.

Swinging the bat several more times, he begins to lose patience. It throws him off, giving me my window to slide behind him and kick him in the back. Falling forward, he fails to catch himself, landing in a dirty puddle.

I'm more than ready to finish him off and go home.

I turn my back, more than ready for this stupidity to end. He can have my knife. I don't care anymore.

"Give it up," I advise him, "Because whether you kill me or not, Shiki-san _will_ find you, and killing me is just more incentive."

Waiting a few seconds for a response, I am satisfied to hear none; no longer threatened by the moron.

Looking both ways, as I was taught in elementary school, I cross the street. The idiot doesn't deserve a second thought.

Aside from the rain, my walk is silent as I hurry home, not even bothering to stop by the hospital for my injuries. I think I'll just have Namie fix my hand tomorrow, because Shinra sure as hell isn't going to do it. It won't bend. From my fingertips to my wrist, the pain is too much to be played with... but I can wait.

I just need to get home.

At this rate, I'm bound to catch a cold and the chill of the downpour is sure to have fed my migraines. With nothing but an empty apartment to go home to, I don't even care… until I don't have a choice…

My heart lurches in my chest, nearly coming out my throat as two familiar figures become recognizable despite the curtain of rain between us. It seems that even in complete darkness, that yellow helmet would gleam like a beacon.

Emerging from a convenience store, Shizuo opens an orange umbrella, providing some shelter to himself and Celty. They're carrying on a conversation it seems, as his mouth moves - inaudible to my ears in this weather - and she nods to show she's listening, probably unwilling to use her PDA for fear of the water ruining it.

I can't decide if it feels like I've swallowed my heart or if it's lodged uncomfortably in my esophagus, but I know I can't let him see me like this. Drunk enough to let it show, crazy enough to stay outside, desperate enough to masochistically take it all out on myself.

I have no doubt that the minute he saw me, he would look down his nose in disgust until I pathetically squirm back into the hole in the mud I emerged from, just like one of those disgusting mudfish they like to show on natura channels.

Swiftly, I spin on my heel, only to be met by a hard hit in the chest with the rounded end of a familiar looking bat.

"Who said we were done?"

Glaring at the former Awakusu-kai member, I smack the sports gear out of my way with my good hand. "_I_ did," I tell him. "Now, stay out of my way."

He glances past my shoulder, ignoring my words as his eyes grow comically wide as he notices Shizuo down the street. "So you weren't lying!" he says excitedly. I wouldn't be surprised if he's pissing himself over it. "Oh, this just makes it ten times better! I kill you here, and he gets the blame all over again!"

"What the hell? Are you really that stupid?" I retort, sick of this absurdity, and nearly unable to believe my own ears.

When did the world become overrun by morons?

"Hey!" he snarls, baring crooked teeth, "Don't question my motives! I know what I'm doing."

"Clearly you don't," I disagree, backing away, but I don't run. The only place I have to go is past Shizuo. And letting him see me, like this, would surely mean the end of everything.

"You die. Now," he insists, pointing at me with his bat.

I scoff, applying a thin smirk to my lips. "Tch. I thought Shizu-chan was an idiot, but this surely takes the cake."

Taking a step backwards, I find difficulty in predicting the man's next move. My guard is up as high as it will go, and still I sense that it is not enough to protect me. I'm worn out, with hardly enough strength to carry myself home.

As predicted, he advances on me with ease, slowly beginning to swing his weapon back and forth, like some sort of deadly pendulum. I keep backing away, he keeps moving forward. I really have read him all wrong.

Not everyone needs a brain to kill.

"Ngh…!"

My back hits a dumpster before I realize he has pushed me into a dingy alleyway with nowhere to run. I'm surrounded by dead ends; lacking the words to talk myself out.

There's nothing left to say as he forcefully raises the bat and swings. The strong wood collides with my stomach, bringing me to my weakened knees as every ounce of breath leaves my lungs.

As black splotches invade my vision, I look up, catching that familiar silhouette before the next swing.

"Shizu-chan…"


	48. Chapter 48

Torn between numbness and feeling as if I've been hit by a bullet train, my eyes open to find myself surrounded by dark, murky shapes. The metallic taste of iron fills my mouth. I think I'm shivering… cold… but I can't tell.

Cold and warm.

Heavy and light.

Nothing makes sense… nothing…

I'm tired… _fuck_. I'm tired.

"Izaya!" I hear through the darkness which clouds my vision.

It's a blurry noise, as if I'm underwater. Drowning. Distant…

Maybe it's just static… ringing in my ears…

But…

I know that sound… I would know it anywhere…

"NO! Don't go back to sleep," I hear it again, feeling myself shake harder, "Izaya! Keep your eyes open, damn it!"

I know that touch…

"IZAYA!"

A gleam of amber light... I know _that_ gleam…

"We need to get him to a hospital… Damn it… He's slipping. Stay awake, Flea. Stay awake."

And I know that name. That's _my_ name.

I feel like I'm falling - falling at impossible speeds through sound and light. Falling through fear. Falling through love. Endlessly falling, as if I'll never land.

I feel weightless. Feather light, but trapped. Cursed to this endless plummet towards a surface unknown.

Closing my eyes, I keep them clamped tightly shut, willing myself out of this madness. Willing myself away from feelings I could never understand, and everyone I've hurt as a result of them.

For what feels like a long moment, this is how I stay, until the rush dies down and I begin regain my sense of gravity.

Until...

The sound of crying opens my eyes, pulling me into immediate concern.

Is that… a _child_?

I find myself on the wooden floor of a familiar home - a place I knew before the migraines, fights, information dealing. A place I knew when everything in my world became so twisted that it became difficult to observe without an open mind and an analytical take on every detail. I was here once… before I ruined lives.

I've always been a curious person with an unquenchable thirst to absorb every piece of information thrown my way. This place… this was the start of it all.

Bringing myself up off the floor, I find myself painless and easily balanced as desolate cries wrench at my heart.

I follow the pathetic sound down the hallway, wondering what sort of people let a child - because I'm sure only a kid could sound like this - wallow in misery. And then I remember… feeling the throbbing organ drop just a bit further into my stomach.

The door at the end of the narrow hall is ajar, revealing a small shadow sprawled across the dark blue carpet. I open it, allowing myself inside the bedroom, where I take a seat on the small bed, which is covered in red and white sheets and a fleece Power Rangers blanket.

A little boy with the brightest red eyes I've ever seen, lies on his back sobbing with a phone held against his ear. He cannot be older than the age of ten, and still I see something of an adult struggling to keep its composure. He wants to grow up before he's ready in order to escape the pain which has him in his current mess of tears.

The conversation he's having is serious. He means every word he spills. I cannot hear the voice on the other end; however, his responses - desperate and pleading - are more than enough.

"It wasn't my fault!" he insists. "They wouldn't listen!"

…

"No! I promise… I promise."

…

"You always say that! Every year! You tell me to take care of Mairu and Kururi, and to be good in school for grandma and grandpa, and you say you'll be here! And you never are!"

…

"I'm old enough now! I want to go with you…"

…

"You always say that too…"

…

"When? Don't lie."

…

"No! I told you!"

…

"Because they hate me! Everyone hates me… even you and dad…"

…

"No! Mom… Please don't…"

There's a tense silence filling the air. He seems choked, like I so often do over a name and face that I'm drawing blanks on right now. Either way, I know his pain.

He sits up, angrily throwing the phone against the wall. The shatter hardly eases his pain because, as we both know, there's nothing in this world strong enough to heal the scars she'll leave him with the moment he is struck with the heaviest doses of reality.

She will cut him down many times with lies, never once coming to his aid. Never taking that broken heart into her nurturing hands.

Right now, he's too young to understand, but by the end of junior high, it won't be more clear. And that's when he'll have had enough.

"You know she isn't going to call back… don't you…?" I ask him.

Daggers shoot from those narrow slits of bloodlust eyes. "What do you know about it?" he spits.

"Oh, please," I scoff, unthreatened by such a familiar look, "She never does."


	49. Chapter 49

Holding his fists at his sides, the tears in his eyes well until he cannot keep up with the burning strain any longer. Taking me by surprise, he breaks down, thrusting himself into my arms where he buries himself in my chest.

It's all I can do to keep him close, wrapping my arms around his small shoulders while he lets it all out.

I've never done well with kids. I don't understand them to say the least… They haven't much knowledge of the world and all of its imperfections, sins, and games. But this one… I should have been taking care of him all along. I should have known better than to leave him alone all this time when I knew it was the very last thing he wanted.

Nobody deserves this. It's the worst possible way to suffer.

I would take a thousand years of endless migraines if it meant I could take back the turmoil I've put him through. Instead, I blindly forced myself into the delusion that twisting him was the best way to protect him.

"Then what's the point?" he wails, making me feel like the fingers I comb gently through his inky black hair are only making this worse.

I'm far from gentle… I'm vicious and cold.

But… he's different. So young… so easily influenced. So easily damaged…

"I've been asking myself the same thing lately," I whisper, doubting he can actually hear me over his own weeping. "Every day… And then I remember that when things couldn't get any worse, _he_ has been there nonstop to make them better… And that's something she never did for us."

Wiggling out of my arms, he stares at me with eyes large like the crimson orbs which dangle from Christmas trees every winter. "Who?" he wonders skeptically, the last of his hope glittering in those ornaments.

Sighing, I try to think… but my head is so screwed up…

"I don't... remember," I tell him, wiping his pink cheeks dry with my sleeve.

This isn't a good enough answer, not for myself, or this boy. I know it before he speaks.

"How do you forget that?" he shoots, "How do you forget someone that makes the hurt go away?"

"Heh… That's a good question. A very good question, indeed."

"Tch. If you can't remember, he isn't real."

I want to say he's right, but I know better. I've been in his place too many times to count on all of my fingers and toes, and I know that the only thing making this last is myself.

"Is that so?" I question, "Can you recall what she looks like? Do you know her warmth, or remember the comforting look in her eyes when you were scared? When you would run into her open arms, and she would make the monsters go away?"

The boy is silent; frozen still by uncertainty.

A cynical chuckle escapes me as I glance around the bedroom, remembering this like it was yesterday. The model ships in the center of the bookshelf, while novels, biographies, and college texts occupied the remaining space. Works much too old for a ten-year-old, but with his capacity for knowledge, he devoured them as if they were nothing more than The Hungry Caterpillar. His favorite television shows displayed on the walls with large posters. A collection of Pokemon cards on his desk beside a computer. Remote control robots in the corner. And a plush cat which had been beside him on the floor during his phone call.

Yes. I remember this.

"I don't remember her at all," I tell him, looking him deeply in his perplexed scarlet eyes.

"What do you remember…?"

"Resentment. All of the times she isn't here for you, when you need her the most. But even though I can't remember his name, if I saw him, or heard his voice, I would know without a doubt in my mind that things might be alright…"

"Then you should go back to him…"

"Aye. I should."

"Why don't you?"

I take his hands him mine, gently brushing my thumbs over his knuckles. "I'm scared."

"But you're a grownup who can do anything you want! Why are you scared?" he asks me, desperately wondering if life isn't all he expects it to be when he's older.

I remember those feelings well, always dreaming about what life would be like the minute I could handle myself on my own. It could not have come fast enough. Nevertheless, I was ready - even when the pain was verging on unbearable.

"Unfortunately, even adults have rules," I say, laying back on the small bed, "And don't forget that there are other grownups too. And they have their own plans."

"So what?"

Ah, of course he would challenge me. I should have known better to reason with him when I've known better all this time.

"You love humans, don't you?"

"Yeah!" he exclaims with his big eyes, climbing on the bed beside me.

He sits on his knees, staring back at me. He's thinking about so many things right now, processing more information than a normal boy should be able to handle at his age.

"Me too. So much that I wish I could control all of them… make them love me back, you know? There are even times when I think I can… I do."

"_All_ of them?"

Oh? Now he's interested.

"A lot of them. It would be pretty tough to take on so many at once, ne? One or two at a time keeps things interesting for a while before moving on to the next."

He seems excited by my response. I can only imagine the sinister plots tearing through his mind right now. I have to let him down. Just enough to make sure he keeps a level head, or else I can't save him.

"But sometimes there are people who cannot be controlled."

"What?" he scowls instantaneously, as I predicted he might.

"Conflicting goals. Strong wills. Stronger hearts," I explain as easily as I can. "We all want something else."

"Then they aren't people," he begrudgingly sneers.

"Human… they aren't _human_," I correct him softly, "But they're still people who struggle just like me and you."

"Then what happens?"

"We have to work it out. Instead of taking what we want - no matter how much we wanted it - we have to take what we need instead…"

"Do you need him?" this boy asks, and I can see the hopefulness in his eyes. A final thread barely hanging in there. I know what he wants me to say, but I don't know if it's right.

"I'm not sure…" I furrow my eyebrows, and think carefully on the question as a certain revelation floods my chest. "I'm afraid that I'll go back to him to find out I got it all wrong. I realize now that I didn't let him in the way I should have because I didn't want him to leave me the way she leaves you. But then… I'm always the one leaving, aren't I?"

"You? But -"

"I'm not half as perfect as I'd like the world to think I am," I smirk.

"Then control him! You wouldn't have to worry anymore!"

Soft tears prick at my eyes. Children are so brutally honest as clueless as they are. They can know of great pain infecting one's heart like a flesh-eating disease. Figuring out what to do with that knowledge is an entirely different matter. As for this one? He isn't clueless at all. He gets it. He's spot-on.

As the tears surface, tickling as they escape my eyes, he realizes the truth and settles down beside me. The steady motion only makes me realize how tired I am.

"Y-you can't…?"

"I don't even know who he is…" I sigh, almost laughing at myself for being such a fool, "Yet it doesn't stop me from being so terrifyingly in love with him."

"Then you should go back before it's too late… like in the movies."

"I think… it already is…" I yawn, barely able to keep my eyes open.

The boy rests his head on my chest, with his ear pressed against my beating heart. We're both emotionally exhausted; in need of a solid rest before we can even consider how to take on our demons.

"You should go now…" he mumbles, snuggling closer with an oversized yawn of his own. "You should go."

"Yes… Yes, I should," I agree, comfortably drifting off.


	50. Chapter 50

Author's Note: Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...

* * *

><p>My bleary eyes open to the familiar sensation of fine warmth and steady breathing, backed by a high-pitched beep sounding once per half-second.<p>

This world is unfamiliar. These lights are bright. And yet, I find myself familiar with this peculiar calidity invading my body.

For a moment, I keep my blurred gaze settled on the ceiling, barely acknowledging the light pain which thrums through my body. It's hardly there; I'm much too lightheaded to pay it any mind.

This heat, however…

Familiarity lifts the speed of my heat by a notch as I turn my head to the source.

Lost in his own dreams, he is undisturbed by the subtle shift; raising my curiosity with that tranquil expression on his sleeping face.

He is beautiful, and for once in my life I am unafraid. Instead, I am welcoming of this ethereal contact. Welcoming of this familiar person with a comforting touch. Soft, sun kissed skin. Blond tresses falling into closed eyes - of which I do not know the color. Still, there is trust here. In this moment.

I must be dreaming.

And screw it all, I would be contented to never wake up.

Just don't leave me…

Shifting slightly, he has my heart skipping beats when his long arm hooks around my waist. Though I quickly find comfort in this change; taking what I can of this immaculate specimen's heated embrace.

Who are you? And why does it feel like I have known you for all my life?

* * *

><p>"Come on, Izaya… You're doing great."<p>

"He's almost there."

"You've got this… Wake up."

"Give him a minute."

"I know, I know. But he's so close, Shinra. I don't want him to stop trying…"

"I understand. Don't forget how tough this has been. For him. For you. All of us. He's been fighting hard."

"It's been so long… I can't lose him again."

"Trust me, Shizuo. I know."

Lose me…? Shizuo…?

_Shizuo!_

Shizu-chan!

Recognizing that name - _that voice_ - my attention turns to the figure in question. Do I find myself dreaming yet again? Or is this as real has the warm hand that takes mine?

Surely, the gentle caress of lips across my forehead is imaginary.

I let him go. Why would he ever come back to me?

Opening my eyes slowly, I can only be instantaneously left breathless by the radiant gleam in a pair of supernova eyes brimming with tears. Tears for me. Tears I do not deserve. For all that I've done… All that I am.

He pulls me into his warm, inviting arms, damn near stopping my heart as I am lifted from sterile blankets and sheets - as if I deserve to be held in such a way.

"Shizuo," a stern voice takes over.

Leave it to Shinra to remind us.

Shizuo lays me down gently, muttering a soft apology as he takes a seat in the chair beside the bed.

My head feels like it's clogged. With what I do not know. But the minute we break contact, it dawns on me that I feel like shit.

"Ggguh…" the truth to my discomfort escapes through a subtle groan.

"Yeah," the doctor responds, stepping up beside Shizuo. He's scribbling some nonsense on a clipboard. "You're going to feel like that for the next few weeks. Luckily, the worst of it is over, and you're going to be alright."

Glancing at Shizuo, I wonder what the hell the nerd is rambling on about. Nothing makes sense. I'm hearing him loud and clear; yet I don't understand.

"Shinra, I don't think he knows what you're talking about…" the blond reads me, never taking his eyes away from mine.

"Izaya," my friend takes on a professional attitude for once in his life, "What is the _last_ thing you remember…?"

Thinking hard through the weight in my aching head, I try my best to remember, realizing somewhere along the lines that a meeting with a ruby-eyed boy probably isn't the answer he's looking for. Before that. What happened before?

"Ngh… I… I remember rain," I whisper, surprising myself with the weakness of my own voice.

"Good. What else?"

"Pain… My hand…"

Attempting to curl said hand into a fist, I realize that indeed it is broken and bandaged when it refuses to move.

"Do you remember who did it? Who hurt you?"

"N-no…" I breathe, clamping my eyes shut in response to a new form of pressure in my head.

"Well, as strange as it is to say, you're lucky he did."

"Lucky?" I echo meekly, "You can't be serious…? Shizu-chan…"

"He's right," the blond sighs.

"The doctor you went to for your migraines is an idiot," Shinra snorts. "He didn't notice the blotch on your brain scan."

"Blotch…?"

"Yeah. The real reason for your migraines…" Shizuo says, brushing his thumb across the knuckles of my good left hand.

"Turns out it wasn't Shizuo's fault at all," beneath his calm, smiling exterior, I can tell that Shinra is seething beneath the surface. "A competent doctor would have noticed it right away. The cause of your migraines has been a small tumor, about the size of a jelly bean, resting on the right side of your brain. The hit you took cracked your skull. Thanks to that, your surgeon found the tumor before it could become life threatening. It's gone now, and you're recovering well. In a few weeks, you're going to be fine, Izaya."

"Y-you mean…?"

"No more migraines," Shizuo smiles brightly.

Swallowing the news, I feel that it is going to take some time for the shock to fully settle in. However, the relief flows through me almost immediately.

"How long…?" I ask for my own curiosity. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost two weeks," Shizuo answers, "It's May seventh…"

I frown, suddenly feeling my heart drop just slightly. "Ngh…"

"What's wrong?"

"I... missed my birthday..."

The blond chuckles softly. "You did... but we didn't. Look around you."


	51. Chapter 51

**Author's Note:** As most of you have already guessed, yes, this story is almost over. I'd also like to inform you that I'm finishing the uploads as soon as I can by updating once for every ten reviews (just because I think that seems like a good/steady pace).

On top of that, I think this is it for me. As much as I love writing, there are more important things I have to do. Most of what I write isn't coming out at all how I'd like it to, but when I do write it takes me away from other important things that need my focus. I sort of want my OC's back.

Shizaya is my OTP. That isn't changing, but other matters need my attention more.

So... there's a chance of no more new stories for me, and I definitely plan to finish those that are almost done, but after that, I think it has to end somewhere.

It has NOTHING to do with my fandom toward Durarara! That hasn't wavered much at all. It's just really difficult to do ANYTHING and be PROUD of it after spending so long on something else. This story took up so much time and effort, and I haven't regained that since I finished. I write less and less everyday, and I'd like to come back to writing with something 100% me.

I also never liked how a lot of stories that don't have a bunch of smut don't do as well as those that do have it. I think if I had it my way, I wouldn't have smut at all, but I write it for readers/fans of the pairing I'm writing for. Does that make any sense?

I choose substance over sex. I really do. And it's stressful to write, especially for someone who likes angst as much as I do. They're difficult to mesh together. So I want to finish the unfinished, and then drift into the background and observe from afar. I feel like those things aren't necessary in my own works. I'll always have implications since that's generally what adult relationships involve, but... smut isn't the most important thing to me, and sometimes I feel like I have to write it.

I'm glad I didn't give into that with this story. I used it to build (I think/hope) my story line, but I didn't focus it on smut. And I find smut much more enjoyable with plot.

Keep in mind that is not at all to say I do not like it, and that I think writers who only write smut are bad at what they do. That's not it at all. That's so false. It's just not... me.

Yeah... That's really all.

Thank you!

* * *

><p>Trying to sit up, the weakness from my body being so useless over the last twelve days weighs me down until Shizuo takes a seat on the mattress beside me. He pulls me up, easily supporting my dead weight in such strong arms.<p>

My breath catches in my throat as red and gold fill my hazy vision.

"What is this…?" I whisper, unsure how to feel.

Adrenaline courses through my veins while the heart monitor picks up a few extra beeps.

Shizuo glances to Shinra, who nods accordingly.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while," he smiles. "Buzz the nurse if you need anything."

He exits, but my eyes are still glued to my surroundings. I'm barely able to acknowledge Shizuo's presence amongst all of… this.

Sensing the questions racing through my mind, he answers them before I can even locate the proper words within myself to ask.

"There are one-thousand of them," he speaks softly, his hot breath tickling my ear as he speaks. "All of them for you."

But _why_? Who would do such a thing? Who would care for my despicable life enough to go so far?

I don't deserve any of this. Not even one.

No.

After what I've done, I should be dead. That is what I deserve most.

"It only took a few days," he explains, "We all helped… Me, Celty, Shinra, your sisters… Kadota and the Otakus… Even that Shiki guy. We made them… because we love you…"

Love? What the hell is this love…? Who would give such a thing to me?

Shizuo reaches to the bedside table, picking up one of a thousand paper cranes; placing it in my hand. Quickly taking note of how weak I have become, not just during the past two weeks, but since the migraines infiltrated my life, he helps me hold the tiny piece of folded paper.

I've never felt so useless in my life. Yet… at the same time… _wanted_.

They hang by tiny silver threads from the ceiling, sit in pyramids on each available surface, stick to the walls with clear tape.

Some, like the one I hold in my trembling hand, are striped. Others are solid. Some shine with a beautiful oriental print. All of them working toward one goal: to wish me a long, prosperous life in fortunate health.

The thought brings silent tears to my eyes.

Nobody is supposed to care for me like this… nobody.

"Shizu-chan…" I whisper, feeling that I will fall apart entirely if he lets me go.

I don't want to be reminded that love is fleeting… I only want to feel his warmth soak into my cold skin.

There's so much I have to say. So much to tell him that only ever became clear in distant, confusing dreams. Words that should have been true all along, before we reached this extent of misfortune.

"It's alright," he reassures me in his gentlest tone. "You're tired…"

"But I… I…"

"Izaya… it's okay," he promises, placing a kiss on my bandaged head, "Get some sleep. We have all the time in the world to talk about it later."

Laying me back down, he does not leave me. Instead, he makes himself comfortable at my side, double checking that I'm alright as I snuggle against him.

I wish I weren't so exhausted. I wish I could think clearly enough to understand all of this. These gifts from everyone I've pushed away, wronged, used…

I will not take this as forgiveness; however, maybe it is a start.

Perhaps there is hope for me yet.

* * *

><p>Waking up, I find myself exactly where I was when I fell asleep - in Shizuo's arms, void of my former strength as I try, and fail, to squeeze his hand in my own. I can barely bend my own fingers. The helplessness is terrifying, telling me that I have a long way to go before my life can get back on track.<p>

So… it was a tumor? This entire time?

Every day of suffering, every line of blame, every pill I ingested…

It shamefully eats away at my heart knowing that all of this… this hell… could have been prevented.

Shizuo didn't have to get hurt, and neither did I. We didn't have to come so close to the end. We could have continued the way we were - locked in a battle of addictive, violent, passionate loathing instead of _this_.

We did not have to change.

And for whatever bemusing reason, we did. And I'm glad we did.

I'm glad to find myself here right now - a broken, piteous wreck of a mortal life form, struggling to heal.

The thought makes me wonder where I would be had things turned out differently. Had the doctor who examined my fucked up head found that tiny tumor causing me so much unbearable affliction.

An operation would have removed it then; and I would have awoken in one of these sterile hospital beds completely alone; without this indescribable warmth as company.

Deep down, I would have resented it, I'm sure. I would have laughed mockingly at both myself and the people I surround myself with, for not giving a damn about my health when I silently commanded that all of humanity love me. I would have felt horribly alone in a similar room to this one, stubbornly refusing the help of professionals working around me, earning nothing but distrust and disgust on their part.

That is precisely what would have happened.

In a few weeks, I would have gotten back to work, running the same routine as I have since high school, selling information to the highest bidder, plotting the demise of useless human beings as well as monsters. The same monsters I once considered Shizuo to be.

This would be a different world. Wouldn't it?

"You still have a long way to go, you know," Shinra says softly, shutting the door behind him. "Don't think you're out of the woods yet."

"I've always felt the woods are a safe place," I say in a shaky breath.

"Oh?"

"Terrific place to hide."

"You know what I mean," he smirks, taking a seat in the chair.

Shizuo is still sound asleep. We make it a point not to allow our conversation to wake him. He looks completely spent by all of the anguish I've put him through.

"Aye…" I try to nod, realizing in the slight motion that I'm in pain. I wince, unable to hide behind my usual demeanor. It scares me.

Shinra, on the other hand, is quick to catch on, taking it upon himself to plunge a syringe into my IV.

"Morphine," he says slyly, waving the empty vile around, "Since I'm not a licensed doctor, and since nobody here knows that but the three of us, I see no problem in doing you a favor."

"Thanks," I return a small smile, immediately drowning in the effects of the drug in my bloodstream.

"But I need you to stay coherent enough to talk. Can you try?"

Talk… And his tone? Never a good sign on my part. Never. Still, I nod regardless.

"Great," his grin widens and he pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up the slender bridge of his nose, "Your neurosurgeon is going to come in later and give you a rundown of it all, but I figured I'd tell you first. Knowing you, you'd rather hear it from me anyway."

"True…" I can't deny his logic.

"You know brain tumors are serious things, Izaya. Potentially deadly in many cases, including yours. The tests we ran showed that it was a meningioma - which can exist for years before possibility of detection."

"And it was malignant?" I breathe.

Shinra nods carefully, "If you hadn't taken that hit, there's a chance you'd have died before anybody knew what was actually wrong with you. On top of that, there's always a chance it could come back. So for the next few years, you're going to have to be tested for them frequently."

"Tch. You mean more hospitals?"

"If another is found, it could cut your life short. You know this."

Swallowing, I am forced to agree. "I do…"

"Whatever keeps you alive, right? Good news is that the checkups become less frequent if your tests come back clean."

"Right… so when will I be able to go home?"

Shinra shrugs honestly. "I think one of the nurses said that you'll be released when you can walk to the bathroom and back on your own… How do you feel now?"

"Like overcooked noodles…" I feel the corners of my mouth tug into a smile.

Shinra chuckles. "Morphine is kicking in?"

"Ne? Yeah…"


	52. Chapter 52

**Author's Note:** Well, it's like I said... Lol.

But also, I DID say I have some stuff to finish before it's all said and done.

Thanks for the reviews and everything as usual. They really do mean something to me.

* * *

><p>Shinra and I stare at each other for a moment, one that my head is really too fucked up to describe. His big navy eyes are locked onto mine, while that perpetual smirk of a sadist lingers on his lips.<p>

"I'm sorry I didn't give your more credit," he speaks.

"Credit?" I have to ask, not even trying to hide that I don't understand where he's coming from this time. It's probably the numb high settling over me that's to blame. I usually read him so well.

"I placed a lot of false accusations over your relationship with Shizuo. I never stopped to try to understand the complexity of it all."

"Heh… Don't worry about it. You were just being a good friend… I think."

"No," he shakes his head in disagreement, "I was being a jerk… I know it was hard for you when we were kids. I shouldn't have let jealousy get in the way."

"Jealousy? Shinra, are you…?"

"N-no! Don't get me wrong! I love Celty more than I could ever put into words, and I fully intend to marry her! It's just… Well, come on, Izaya… You took an irreplaceable piece of me…"

Rolling my eyes, I decide I still have enough of my mind left to play with him a little. "Do you miss me?"

"W-what?"

"_Please_, it's not like you didn't take that same piece out of me… If you want some, all you have to do is say so~"

"Okay," the doctor huffs, hanging his head, "You're high."

"Nah…" I snort.

"No! I shouldn't have given you that morphine! I'm trying to be serious here!"

"Then change the subject," I quickly advise him, knowing myself well enough to know that if we continue in this direction, I will very soon be propositioning him for a sexual endeavor.

He does not take things the way I expect him to when the smile falls from his boyish face as he silently scans me up and down.

"You both look like shit," he scoffs.

"Ne? So mean, Shinra… So mean…"

"You have no idea how terrified we all were when word got around…" he sighs. "Shizuo has been here for you this entire time, only leaving when Celty dragged him out for a shower or a bite to eat. He's been a wreck with you in that bed."

My heart sinks a bit. For a moment, I feel like it might be heavy enough to send me falling through the opposite side of the mattress. There's guilt in there. Undiluted guilt.

"I can't imagine what it must feel like… watching the person you love most get hurt like that… It fucked him up. And until we learned that a small tumor is to blame for all of this, he couldn't be reasoned with. It was destroying him…"

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, feeling a thick coating of sobs painfully fill my throat.

"Because… I really feel that Shizuo needs you… just as badly as you need him. You both need to heal in such a way that, as your friend, I feel like only you can count on each other… I mean, Celty and I are here for you both as always, but… take care of him the way you know he'll take care of you."

Shinra's request strikes a nerve within that has me doing as he asks. I don't know when I fell victim to a soft look in his oceanic eyes; however, I find myself taking them to heart despite it all.

* * *

><p>As expected, I spend the next few weeks recuperating in the hospital; regaining enough of my bearings to complete my recovery from home as the crack in my skull continues to heal in unison with my brain and the pain begins to fade.<p>

The underground physician wasn't wrong about what the nurses had said. They don't even consider letting me go until I can stand properly. They're constantly treating me like a limp little rag doll, giving me absolutely no space each time I so much as bat an eyelash. I can't even piss without some intrusive, bossy lady with bad breath hovering over my shoulder.

What's worse is that my charm seems to hold no effect over any of them. It's as if they are machines, built exclusively for the clever, snarky, cynical patients of this hospital.

If my inappropriate jokes about medical marijuana weren't enough to earn their disdain, a few days back, I tried telling them I could hold my own dick while I relieve myself, because after having that God awful catheter up there for three weeks, I wasn't about to be handled so invasively again.

They weren't having that, either. Fucking Nazis…

Fortunately, for my sanity, Shizuo quickly convinced the hospital's employees of what I could not - that I would be infinitely more comfortable if I received assistance in such matters from him, rather than the nagging woman scurrying in and out of my room every forty-five minutes; berating me for one reason or another.

I think he actually told them some lie about how I was molested by my aunt as a child, so now I am terrified of older women - especially when they attempt to watch me pee. And as long as I give him my pudding cup during lunch, he has also been able to convince them that I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself, even if he has to open the juice for me, or hold my hand when it begins to shake from the slowly fleeting pain.

Pretty impressive coming from the honest brute.

He's doing everything he can to prove his worth to me, and I let him, never bothering to tell him that he doesn't have to. That he's already won me over.

No way am I going to let my already smothered pride stand in the way of what it has for so long.

I am through denying the truth to myself. Through fighting the inevitable. I want to feel new again. Honest and refreshed.

"Remind me to never fall victim to another coma ever again," I frown, leaning against him as that pissy nurse stomps out of the room. "And to think that I thought _you_ were the monster."

"Dunno, Izaya. You see that look on her face? Maybe she's a demon," he plays along with my teasing.

"I very much doubt that. If she were a demon, she'd be after my tainted black soul."

Shizuo snickers. "You're not that bad… A little fucked up in the head, but not that bad."

"Hm…"

"I want to go home," I solemnly confess, thinking about all of the things I want to say to him; feeling like this hospital is not the place to say them. "I miss my bed… So big and comfortable..."

"Yeah… me too…"

"Says the guy who gets a choice," I roll my eyes as I scoff. "Go if you want. Take my key."

"Like hell…" he mumbles into the back of my shoulder where he rests his head. "I need to be with you."

The very words chill me in a way that they shouldn't. Not that I dislike them… I'm just not sure how to respond; unsure of what to say after we've been through so much, been so rushed, and still haven't had the opportunity to talk.

Nobody has ever been here for me in such a fashion, let alone managed to stick by me during the toughest part. Shizuo's strength runs much deeper than he originally led me to believe. Anyone else would have given up by now. I know that I would have. And I would have done so without regret or remorse.

I shoved him away, and still, he came back.

I can't just get over it. I can't simply look over it as if it were nothing. To say such a thing… it would be wrong.

This is far from nothing.

This is everything.


	53. Chapter 53

**Author's Note**: I'm so tired... Hm...

* * *

><p>Finally, after pushing myself beyond limits I didn't even know I had until recently, my doctor sends me home with a wide array of prescription medications and a warning that if I overexert myself I could end up in a cold hospital bed all over again. Still, it didn't stop the man from being surprised at just how quickly my body heals in comparison to other patients, boosting my confidence that I am above human, even by just a little.<p>

For the first time in three weeks, I run my fingers through my hair, glad to know that the spot they shaved off for my surgery has mostly grown back. I didn't enjoy sporting half of a Mohawk like one of those Visual Kei musicians. However, it has still left a large enough scar to capture my attention as I trace it with my fingertips. Knowing that it will never go away, I grimace, praying to nonexistent higher powers that I never have to go through something like this again.

It still bothers me, thinking about it; realizing that everything could have been prevented. It also makes me uneasy to think that it could have gone completely unnoticed until it killed me.

"Shizu-chan?" I steal the blond's attention for my own as I rest my head in his lap on the couch.

We've only been back for about an hour. I'm tired from the ride home and standing for too long in the elevator.

Shizuo had insisted on wheeling me out in a wheelchair, but I wanted to get used to my legs again, even if he had to carry me out near the end…

"Yeah?" he responds calmly, noticing the way I keep stroking my fingers over the wound.

It's still healing...

"What happened to him? That lowlife who did this?" I wonder, realizing that I hadn't thought much of it until now.

I've been too busy simply trying to get the pieces back in order. Recovering. Thinking about Shizuo. About us.

"Not sure exactly," he tries to stay cool, understandably angry for what happened. It surprises me slightly. I had expected _him_ to be the one to hunt down my aggressor, but his eyes say otherwise long before his mouth does. "Celty went after him. I think she gave him to some yakuza guy."

"Shiki-san?"

"No... Not him... I don't remember. It's all so blurry."

I smirk. "Well, now. That's a shame. I would have loved to see him get what's his. Wouldn't you?"

"Hell yeah, I would," he growls, "I'd love to do it myself."

"Protective, ne?" I cannot refrain from a small chuckle.

Shizuo's cheeks are instantly dusted with a soft pink glow. I can see that he means what he says, and so he has nothing to say in return.

From here, we keep quiet. His firework eyes are locked on mine; seldom blinking for fear of missing a single piece of this moment. Words can wait another day. For the peace transpiring between the two of us now is irreplaceable. Rare.

For all the hell that has happened, and all the hell to come, I need a break. Any semblance of peace to give my heart and my head a chance to calm down so that they may work together, rather than against one another as they've done for so long.

Two opposites which remind me of how Shizuo and I once were.

The difference between want and need is certainly a fine line, as fine as the silver threads tying together those hundreds of paper cranes.

All of the pieces are finally coming together.

* * *

><p>I do not fear asking Shizuo for assistance in my weakened state. In fact, I quickly accepted dependency on him; choosing not to fight or act difficult, in hopes that if I make it easy as possible, I'll be back on track in a shorter amount of time, even if I would love to do it all on my own if only to prove that I can.<p>

I want to get well. I want to live my life the way I used, and for the first time in almost a year, I have that chance. Shizuo is my chance.

Denying that I'm significantly needy would only be lying to myself at this point.

And maybe I even want him this close to me all of the time…

The fact of the matter is that nobody has ever pushed me to the limits quite like he does. I feel that, despite his warmth, he gives me these expectations as he surpasses mine. That isn't something you can easily ditch. It's much more than a feeling.

I shouldn't even be attempting to work right now as I research my health from bed, using my laptop. So, I suppose it isn't technically work; yet it was enough to have that blond rolling his eyes when he suggested I rest instead.

Or maybe I'm just trying to keep distracted because I know we need to talk, and I'm suddenly finding myself nervous. We can't keep waiting like this…

"You feeling okay, Izaya?" Shizuo breaks me out of my thoughts.

"Fine…" I grumble, furrowing my eyebrows. "I just have a lot on my mind now that I can actually use it effectively."

Passing me a glass of water and a hand full of assorted pills, I grimace at the time of day, accepting them from him. This amount of medication has to be illegal in some countries.

"I can tell…" he sighs, "You've been quiet today."

"I'm sorry, Shizu-chan. Don't take it the wrong way…"

"I don't."

"But…"

I hear the hitch in his breath, making me more nervous than ever before.

"I want to talk about it later…" I admit, staring at my broken hand. "Everything, I mean."

"What's left to say?" he shrugs, making a poor attempt to stay nonchalant. But if he's anything like I think he is, his heart is ready to burst.

"A lot… We can't continue on like nothing happened."

When he tries to take a step back, I find myself reaching for his hand in fear. I cannot let him go; nor can I scare him away.

Realizing that I won't make it easy to slip out of this one, he takes a seat beside me. Hurt swirls in his eyes like two golden whirlpools.

"Hey, it's not like that," I assure him, wanting nothing more than to break down and cry as I brush messy blond strands out of his face. I notice that his roots could use a slight touchup, and I know that it's foolish to think about such trivial matters right now, but when my arm is out of this itchy God-awful cast, I can see myself going to work on hiding beginnings of espresso. "It isn't easy… needing you the way I do…"

"Izaya…"

"I just want to make it right."

"I know… But… I wanna make it easier on you. I hate seeing you suffer like this."

Tears well in his eyes, spilling just in time for me to kiss them away. This man has absolutely no idea what he means to me. He's so much more than he gives himself credit for. More than I deserve.

"I'm not. I'm not suffering anymore."

"B-but you're hurting…"

"I'm _healing_."


	54. Chapter 54

**Author's Note**: Nobody listens to me when I tell them that I know what I'm doing. ~(x.x~)

I'm so irritable. Pfff.

* * *

><p>For the first time, I find that I am the one comforting Shizuo as he crawls in bed with me and silently weeps into my shoulder. To me, it feels like he has needed this for a long time, like he's been keeping it bottled up in an effort to keep his heart as strong as his body.<p>

I can't even begin to imagine the stress…

Shinra's words are making much more sense to me now. Even somebody as rare as this man can break down. I can't even begin to comprehend the stress he's been through on my behalf.

Each time a migraine took me down.

Every fever.

Our arguments.

My pride.

Casting aside his feelings for someone he hated.

Falling in love to be rejected.

Nearly losing a second chance when he nearly lost me.

I came within centimeters of my life... not like I had often done in the past, with Shizuo at my tail. No. I was precariously balanced between life and death with nothing more than a single, thin thread of hope keeping me tied to this world.

I'd like to sit around and selfishly believe that I'm the only one suffering. It's a combination of masochism and getting what I deserve. However, Shizuo doesn't deserve any of this, and since the beginning he's been free to leave at any time. Instead, he stayed. He persevered. And he suffered.

He would be the one to suffer with my death.

So I get it. I can understand and accept… If anything, he has been my backbone.

Twenty minutes pass tangled in each other's arms when a loud knock sounds at the door if only to startle us apart.

Looking to him curiously, neither of us are expecting anyone this evening.

"Want me to get that?" he asks, drying his eyes with the back of his hand.

I'm almost afraid to ask him. "You don't mind?"

He shakes his head before disappearing from the bedroom.

Hearing several voices go back and forth, I sit up. They're too faint from where I lay to figure out who it could be, or what is being said. Even Shizuo's tone is hardly recognizable from this distance.

The door closes, and I furrow my eyebrows.

Not a minute later, Shizuo comes back with a look of concern scrawled across his face.

"Who was it?"

"Uh… Shiki-san and his friend are here," he mutters anxiously, scratching the back of his head, "They said they need to see you. Said it's important…"

"Alright…" I decide, somewhat skeptical.

_Now_? Why would they be here _now_?

"You want me to send them up?"

And see me so pathetic and useless? Of course not.

Biting back my irritation, I shake my head.

Fuck. Why? Why now?

"Help me, Shizu-chan," I tell him, reaching for his hand as I scoot myself out of bed.

"You sure it's okay?"

Nodding adamantly, I decide I'm not in the mood to be told what to do. Tired or not, I have to get up some time or another. "I haven't been up since this morning," I remind him, finding my balance. "Don't let go."

"I won't."

It's slow, and probably a pathetic sight, to see the once great Orihara Izaya giving everything not to fall. My malfunctioning legs feel more like gelatin than human limbs. My own weight, while slight these days, is verging on too much.

Something akin to fear kicks in when we reach the stairs.

From the second floor, I bite down on my lip, trying me best to pretend I don't notice Shiki and Akabayashi watching me from where they sit on the couch.

One step at a time. That's all it is.

No pride. No judgment. Just a small fight of twelve. A taunt. A joke.

Heh… A strong will has to count for something, doesn't it? After all, I want my body back. So it has to happen at one point or another.

The first step is a wobbly one, nearly knocking me off balance. I'm sure I'd have fallen without Shizuo's support. Eleven to go. That isn't bad. Hell, it may even be a record.

Following the first comes three more, which I find much easier to take, pacing myself with each one as not to overexert myself.

Eight to go. Another step becomes seven.

_Focus. He won't let you fall._

I take in a deep breath. Shizuo's hand tightens around my waste when mine squeezes around the one I'm holding. I can feel his trust in that heat.

_Six… five… four…_

I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath. Vertigo dares to step in, teasing the corners of my senses.

"Are you alright?" Shizuo whispers, pressing a kiss against my new scar.

To answer him is to turn four steps into three…

_Two…_

_One…_

Made it.

Stealing a moment to rest, I lean against Shizuo, carefully taking the moment to catch my breath. Stairs are not my friend at the moment; something I'll have to work on as my strength slowly returns to me. I hate being so useless. I despise losing control of myself. Yet, I can't seem to knock it off.

Plastering a blatantly forced smile onto my face, I untangle myself from Shizuo's protective arms, taking the rest of the journey to the couch on my own - which still includes him closely trailing behind; ready for me to collapse at any moment.

"I'm closed for business, you know," I tease the pair of executives, relieved when my tired body finally falls into the cushions of the couch.

Shizuo stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders. I decide not to shrug him off just yet.

The two yakuza give me skeptical looks, undoubtedly considering how pathetic it was for them to watch me struggle to walk down a small flight of stairs – stairs I used to fluidly leap over. Dare I say there is pain swirling around and around in those stormy, whirlpool eyes of Shiki's.

It's a horrible sensation to be met with such a look. Humiliating to be so fragile that I can barely walk on my own. It can't last.

"How are you feeling, Orihara-san?" he asks, intending to keep this meeting professional.

Please. All those years locked in a relationship with him, and he still thinks he can hide the truth to his emotions behind such an intense look on his face and a calm inflection? I confess, I may be a bit disappointed that the man doesn't know me better than that by now. Then again, I never gave him much of an opportunity to get to know me at all.

"Like a former member of _your_ group recently kicked my ass," I smirk. "If you're here to ask me to work, I'm under strict orders from three doctors, twelve pills a day, and Shizu-chan to decline."

"We have our reasons," a small smile tugs at his lips, "Though we would never expect you to take a job in your condition. Akabayashi-san and I felt the need to check up on you is all."

Horse shit.

"Then you should have paid a visit after I came out of the coma, Shiki-san," my smile widens just a bit as his confidence falters.

I'm playing with him, of course.

Giving my shoulders a small squeeze, Shizuo releases me from his grip, going after the cigarettes left on the coffee table. Without a word, he nods in the direction of the door, quickly showing himself out for a smoke break while I deal with these two.

I commend the blond for picking up on the situation so easily; handling it without complaint or interrogation.

"As opposed to giving you a job, we're here to offer you something instead," my ex leans back, shooing away his current lover's hand as it comes to rest on his knee.

Entertained by propositions already, I'm clearly interested. "Do tell."

"How would you like to be initiated into the Scarred Face Club?" a rejected Akabayashi leans forward on his gaudy, decorative cane with that ever-present Cheshire grin widening on his lips.

This small act earns him a comically venomous glare from Shiki. "_That_ is inappropriate."

The Red Devil chortles a bit, amused, without giving an unnecessary apology when he sees that my own smile still hasn't fallen from my face.

"So how can I help you?" I interrupt an oncoming lovers spat before it begins, "Or better… how can you help me?"

Shiki is quick to respond, even while trying to keep his stoic attitude in check against the redhead's antics. He forgets that I've seen him loosen up and drop his professional front many times before. I know what he's like beneath solid concentration.

"We have him in our hold."

As if I've just been dropped into the arctic, my blood chills instantly, leaving me without words. Instead, I wait for him to say more.

"Celty brought him to Akabayashi, here, on the night of the incident."

"Okay…" my grin begins to slip.

"And he's happy to take the blame. It seems as if he feels there's some semblance of glory in what he did to you."

My stomach churns. This isn't something I necessarily had any desire to know. "Why are you telling me this?"

Akabayashi sighs, offering to take it from here as his partner stares at the rings on his fingers out of poorly concealed nervousness. "What Shiki-no-danna is attempting to say is: We have the moron. What do you want us to do with him?"


	55. Chapter 55

**Author's Note**: Oh, fuck it.

* * *

><p>While it has never happened to me personally, I've heard this question before amongst yakuza business. What it usually translates to is, "How do you want me to kill him?"<p>

Blinking back stun, I open and close my mouth a few times, unable to figure out what the hell I am supposed to say to that. Ordinarily, I feel that I would have pounced on the opportunity to say "fire," and have the filth burned to death.

Now? Now I'm… not so sure.

"We understand if you need time to think," Shiki adds to the heavy statement.

I have always seen it used for death, but that is not what I find myself wanting. At all. It's as if my heart is doing somersaults in my chest. Painful, clumsy somersaults.

What the fuck is this feeling? And why does everything have to be so fucking messed up all of the time?

I can't even say I want revenge… I… don't. I mean… fuck. I do! But… I don't want it like _that_.

"I don't want you to kill him," I say flat out, refusing eye contact with either of them just knowing the scrutiny that I will witness on both faces.

God only knows the fucker deserves it; yet I can't support it in the least. I can't sit here at home, knowing that man died for what he did to me… because… what he did to me… was…

"Excuse me?" Akabayashi is the first to release surprise. "Orihara-san -"

"Izaya," Shiki cuts him off, his voice significantly quieter.

Maybe my surgeon removed more of my brain than the tumor. This is madness! What the hell am I saying?

"I'm sorry..." I sigh, "As much as it disgusts me to say so, you know how I run business. An eye for an eye."

"He tried to murder you!" the darker haired executive's voice raises slightly as his hurricane eyes bore into mine.

Akabayashi is next to berate me as he cynically chuckles, "How much medication are you on, kid? Do you have any semblance of what we're offering you?"

"Of course I do," I glare.

"You're being foolish," Shiki sniffs, unsatisfied by what he has heard. "Have you completely lost your head?"

Feeling like I can't take any more of this harassment, I stand up suddenly as if to prove a point. "_Enough_!" I demand, silencing the older men.

I don't expect them to see the world through my eyes. Hell, I don't even know what I'm seeing for myself anymore. Perhaps I'm only hoping that I am still sadistic enough to wish a fate worse than death on the guy.

My legs wobble from beneath me, telling me I should probably sit down before they force me down.

"Whether or not it was his intention, he potentially saved my life." The words almost seem unreal spilling out of me like this. They do not feel like my words at all. "So do what you want with him, just as you would have regardless of my position in the matter. If you want to kill him, kill him. But do not do so on my behalf."

I pause upon hearing the opening of the front door. Shizuo walks back into the scene with bewilderment slapped across his face as he stares back and forth between myself and the executives.

For a torturous moment, my eyes begrudgingly lock onto his, bringing down my walls before him. I'm losing control...

"Do what you want," I tell them, "However, do not force me to carry the guilt."

Resisting exhaustion no longer, my legs fold from under me, bringing me down to the hard floor beneath my feet. Shizuo wastes no time joining me at my side, even as my attention shifts back to Shiki.

"You know I'd still do anything for you," I tell him. "Don't make me do this. Not this time."

It takes an understanding pat on the back from Akabayashi to get Shiki to nod his head in silent compliance. Deep down, he understands that I'm not out to disappoint him, just as I know he is as worried and upset as any man could be. He's still more attached to me than he'd like to believe. It almost has me sorry that I could not have been better to him…

These feelings I have now that I am with Shizuo are so much more than anything I ever felt for him. It's quite possible that he sees this as well.

It's exhausting.

My heart can't take any more of this relentless excitement.

* * *

><p>Life was never supposed to be this difficult.<p>

That's what I think, anyway, as I watch the cityscape light up in front of a vivid orange and purple backdrop; finding it almost difficult to recall the last time my eyes could handle a sunset without bringing on a migraine. Almost a year to truly appreciate such magnificence.

It deeply disturbs me that anybody could ever take this for granted.

"Do you remember when you were eighteen? The way you loved watch it set over the bay?"

I smile, hearing the older man's voice behind me as I continue to stare. Who could forget? Shiki was barely thirty at the time. "It gave me this sense of calm, wondering how many humans were spending their time observing such a sight. I always liked to imagine who they were, what they looked like, what they were thinking about."

"Do you still love them as you did?" Shiki asks, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Of course I do," I scoff, "More than anything, I miss tangling myself up in human lives."

The executive sighs. Feeling his eyes on me, I glance over to him before returning my gaze to the window. He knows that what sentiments I have toward my idiot blond are unlike anything I've ever experienced before. But if it weren't for his unexplained persistence with me, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would have given up on Shizuo too.

It was because of this white-suited yakuza that I went back on everything I've ever believed in… or didn't believe in…

"You were right, you know," I feel the need to tell him before he leaves.

"About…?"

"Shizu-chan."

"I see…"

"So why aren't you rubbing it in my face like you planned to? Ne, Shiki-san?"

"Maybe someday," he smirks, "Until then, there's no sense in that after you nearly died for the cause. Is there?"

With nothing to say in return, I frown. Even if that little worm's attempt at offing me is the reason my tumor was found to begin with, Shizuo saved me from so much more than death.

He needs to know that.

"It frightens me… being in love with somebody," I quietly admit to Shiki. "The concept of handing my heart over in such a fashion… You spend your entire life foolishly escaping it, only to be swallowed whole…"

"You shouldn't worry," Shiki tries to assure me. "He's perfect for you."

"Ne? What makes you say that?" I snort, immediately thinking back on all of the fights, blood, taunting, rampages, damage control. Everything.

Perfect? It almost seems like a funny joke that two men who attempted to kill each other for the first eight years of their "relationship" are now practically living together, much less romantically involved.

"Well, you have made it this far. I also think he may be rubbing off on you a bit, don't you think?"

"I was beginning to think you were headed in a sensible direction," I roll my eyes. Maybe I'm not the only one who is suffering. In fact, if I wasn't sure before, I'm positive now that Shiki is the one becoming like Akabayashi. A complete and utter nutcase, if I've ever heard of one. "Now, I'm not so sure."

"Most of us in the Underworld would jump on the chance to have a man killed, whether or not he was innocent," he calmly explains. "You, one of the most devious of us all, are choosing not to take revenge on a man who attempted to beat you to death."

"There are better methods for destroying a life than execution," I retort. "You know I'm not a killer."

"True. You aren't half as bad as you force your peers to believe."


	56. Chapter 56

**Author's Note:** I'm really tired and just eager to get it done now. Lol

* * *

><p><em>There is a great deal of pain in life, and perhaps, the only pain that can be avoided is the pain that comes from trying to avoid pain.<em>

Looking back at our fights, I always ran away before he could hurt me. As unpredictable as he is, I always trusted myself to make a narrow escape. Then, when I needed him most, there was nowhere left to run. Not because he had me cornered, but because I gave myself up. Realizing what I was sinking into; I never saw the extent. It was as if I had been looking down a well, blind to its existing limits; so instead of trying to predict them I assumed it was only as deep as the eye could see.

How wrong of me. How very, very wrong.

"I love you. Is it alright for me to say it?"

The bold statement brings me to a pause in my typing as my heart skips a beat (which, frankly, I didn't even deem possible until we fell into this). Now, it's becoming a daily occurrence.

Considering all options, I cannot bring myself to resent the terrifying words. However…

"Yes," I slowly nod.

"But…?"

I smirk, considering that I could get used to the way this man reads me. Really, it isn't so bad once you get used to it. "Just don't overuse it."

"Is that even possible?" the smile is quietly returned as he begins to slowly unbutton his shirt.

"Yes," I'm serious, "If you're going to say it, it should be at the appropriate time. Like now."

"Why?"

"Because said too often erodes the meaning from the words."

Slipping out of the garment, his usually lacking confidence is high, glimmering in each golden iris like an autumn sunrise. I would love to rake my eyes over that torso, but I can't. This is torture, prolonged by the way he chooses to change out of his slacks before a new shirt even becomes an option. "And it's appropriate now… because…?"

Sighing, I finally look away from him entirely, the smile sliding from my face. "I just feel like… maybe I needed to hear it again."

"Sorry I haven't said it more…" he frowns, too.

"Don't be. I don't want to suffocate in it, you know? The entire prospect is still a little much."

He sits down on the bed, still shirtless. Still utterly tempting. Driving me absolutely mad.

I want that body… every fucking inch of it. That smooth heat. Those burning eyes. That strength sinking so far into me I can feel it all the way through my spine.

It has been too long again.

Tch…

As if it matters. I can't even handle a flight of stairs without colliding head-on with exhaustion. He might kill me.

"I understand," he says. Softly taking my face in his warm hands, he pulls me forward slightly, kissing me tenderly on the forehead. "I'm not gonna push you."

"Of course not," I place my constantly faltering trust in him, hoping not to lose my grip again.

I know my heart couldn't take it. I would die before it could even crack.

"May I make a suggestion?"

"Yes…?" I answer hesitantly.

Pulling me into his bare, smooth chest, he leans back against the headboard with me in his arms. Blatantly worn from too much unexpected excitement, I would be so ready to fall asleep right now had I not so much on my mind.

Even confined to bed, it feels as if there is still never enough time in the day to get through it all. We're so rushed; constantly facing one interruption after the other.

"I think we should wait to talk…"

"Wait?" the suggestion wakes me up a bit more. "Shizu-chan, I…"

"I know it seems crazy, especially since I'm dying to know anything you have to tell me. But I wanna wait, Izaya."

"Why?"

"Cause… you have to get better. You said yourself that it's okay; so I'm not worried about it. It's just that… I'm worried about you. You know I'll be here for you no matter what happens…"

"Shizuo… who knows how long that will take…" I heave a sigh.

"Doesn't matter. I'm not leaving."

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the room while I determine whether or not I'm even ready to spill my untold secrets. I know that every word he speaks is as true as the air I breathe.

"God damn it… Why do you have to be so good to me?"

* * *

><p>Each day is two steps forward; one step back. However, I know it's better than nothing. I know that it counts as improvement on my part. I also know that without Shizuo I wouldn't be making it anywhere at all.<p>

Hell, at this point I'm just happy to be able to climb the stairs without help - even when he does keep a close eye on me to make sure I don't slip. Dare I say I even appreciate the concern, only finding it annoying when exhaustion has me irritable, or when I am feeling impatient by the snail-like speed of recovery.

I'm more than ready to be free again.

However, according to Shinra's expertise, I'm still far from ready to return to my former life as spring fades into summer. He says I am weak, and I can feel in myself that he's right. The doctor also thinks it would be best if I waited until I have at least three tests come back clean of anymore tumors. It irritates me to have no choice but to agree with him because I do not look forward to visiting the hospital once a month, let alone having Shinra over once a week to chastise me on how I should take care of my body. From what we've concluded, there's no way to tell if my condition is hereditary or not, as even I have been unable to obtain any information on my parents' medical files.

Something about that bothers me… that they seek all treatment overseas… It's suspicious as it is annoying.

"You're still thinking about it aren't you?" Shizuo asks as we sit down at the kitchen table for dinner.

Tonight's meal brought to you by Russia Sushi.

"It doesn't make any sense," I frown, opening my box of ootoro.

The blond sighs, "Please don't tell me you spent the entire day in front of your computer; looking for answers while I was at work…"

A nervous smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "I can't help it…"

"Izaya…"

"I can't! There's nothing! Not even from my birth. For all I know, I'm American."

Not that I mind… but the idea puts a sour taste in my mouth… I think if I were to learn such a thing, it would be about as devastating as a kid learning that they're adopted… which, all things considered, I very well could be.

Ugh. My life is a lie!

"Maybe you should just ask them…" he frowns, immediately staring at me with amber eyes that speak in volumes. He knows he has just stepped into forbidden territory. Then again… "I mean, they're your family… right…?"

"Hardly," I snort, doing what I can to suppress the feelings which churn in a tight, poisonous ball in my chest. "Blood is blood, but considering somebody your family is an entirely different matter in itself."

Instead, I pop a piece of fatty tuna in my mouth, enjoying the way it melts on contact with my tongue. It's as if the flavor of such a delectable substance dissolves the negative feelings… almost.

We'll talk about it… just not now…

"Alright," he nods, "I get it. It's your deal."

Starting, I nearly choke on rice. "Ne…!"

"It's just one of those things… It's your business. Not mine."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it…"

"I just want you to be alright. I dunno what happened with your parents, or why, and I can't tell you how to handle it."

"Shizu-chan…"

"Just know you don't have to do anything alone…"

He's worrying again.

But I'm not alone. This is what I tell him with my eyes as I reach across the table to take his hand in mine, lacing our fingers. Giving him a silent "thank you," I feel my cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment.

Heiwajima Shizuo has chased my fears away by bringing them out if only to crush them with a strength that runs deeper than I ever imagined. Suddenly, I've forgotten why I ever hated him. Was there ever a reason? Lately, I just don't think so.

After all he has done to save me, how could I ever think I was alone again? He came back… when I didn't - when I don't - deserve him… he came back.

We finish our dinner in a calm silence before moving to the couch to watch some television.

Here, he picks up his habit of running his fingers through my hair; tracing over the long scar every once in a while, as if someday he plans for his magically soothing touch to rub it away. Like it is nothing more than a smudge on my skin. I can only hope to avoid another.


	57. Chapter 57

Why can't I be more patient and less curious? I like to tell myself that I don't give a flying fuck, but I do. Everybody knows I do. And even after I thought this entire disaster was over, I'm still facing some aftershocks here and again.

How is it that I'm still pulling up nothing but blanks? This is fucking stupid! I'm Orihara Izaya and this does not fucking happen to me.

I know Shizuo is worried about it; hating the way I spend my days on this puzzle when I can't connect a single piece to another. Hell, I don't even have the pieces. It's like I'm trying to match these asymmetrical shapes to the wrong damn puzzle altogether.

I could call.

I could call any of them, but why waste my time?

There are no doubts in my mind that they know about my condition by now. Shizuo said it himself. The girls were there. So they must have passed the news along by now. Those two little demons, always blabbing; all of them pretending to care, but never sparing a moment or two for that phone call.

I wasn't lying, you know - when I said she won't call back. She has better things to do.

Fed up by one failure after another, I practically throw myself out of my own chair, angrily stomping back and forth like some sort of madman in front of the window.

People - especially _those_ people - don't have the skills to just disappear. Even from another country, I should be able to figure this out. I mean, I've found people half way across the world before. I'm not powerless.

"FUCK!" I can't hold it in any longer, shouting my ire loudly enough to be heard throughout the entire block.

In a matter of seconds, Shizuo comes racing down the stairs, half-naked and completely horror-stricken as his wet hair drips down his skin. Such a sight would be distracting if more pressing matters hadn't hooked my attention first.

"Are you okay?" he exclaims.

I believe that expressing anger is a symbol of weakness… I really do… but…

"Che… No," I say, refusing eye contact as I slowly turn back to my computer to quickly type out a message.

[_Stop fucking with me. Tell me what I want to know, or I'll hunt you down myself_.]

-_Is that a promise, Orihara-san? Bold statement coming from you_.-

[_There are implications in that statement. What do you know about me_?]

_-Everything. Unlike you, I have no trouble coming up with information as simple as medical files.-_

[_If mine are so easy to obtain, why can't you find theirs_?]

_-They're your parents. Shouldn't you know? Or did that tumor drain you of your talent?-_

Purely insulted by his brazen statements of insulting my intelligence, while he's the one who hides behind a fucking computer screen one-hundred percent of the time, I've had about enough of his childish games.

Without a second's thought, I pick up my computer's mouse and slam it into the monitor with one hard throw. A crack splits diagonally through the screen just before it goes black. I cannot recall the last time I felt so fucking angry. Uncontrollably livid. Tested. Insecure. _Vicious_.

"Izaya…?" Shizuo steps forward, reaching out for me.

I'm not thinking about him at all the moment I slap his hand out of the way, quickly shoving past him. I don't even look him in the eye as I storm upstairs to my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me; knowing that if anybody hates to see me like this, it's him.

* * *

><p>Fortunately, the blond knows me well enough to give me the space I need.<p>

Several hours later, the door opens with a small creaking sound, awakening me from deep thoughts.

Immediately responding to his presence, I roll onto my back, untangling my stringy arms from around a pillow, and sigh. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" the blond gently smiles, settling down beside me.

"Snapping like that… I didn't mean to worry you."

"It's alright," an arm drapes around my waist, tugging me close into a pocket of warmth.

A snide little laugh escapes me. "I broke my monitor…"

"Maybe it's a sign that you should stay away from work for a while," he teases.

"Screw that. I feel much better…"

"Heh… really?"

"Yeah. I do. Besides, I need a new one anyway."

"Good."

"In fact, I…"

Flipping myself over in his arms, I stare into his eyes, watching them swirl and sparkle in the dying sunlight. I have fought the urge to give in for so long, simply because we've doubted my strength to handle it. I know I'm still not quite there yet… but… nobody ever said I couldn't…

Bringing my hand up to his face, I let my fingertips travel over the silky surface of his golden skin.

Why should I continuously deny myself of simple pleasures such as this? That's hardly fair, isn't it?

Closing my eyes, I make the first miniscule move, brushing my lips over Shizuo's, allowing for the warm, sweet sensation of his mouth to flood through me as if his soul could melt with mine into one substance.

_Oh, what a feeling._

His quick response to the kiss is my signal to deepen it, pressing harder, pushing my tongue forward, until he grants me the access I so desire.

Not yet satisfied, I side my tongue over his smooth teeth, enjoying the way they feel on my oral muscle.

He sucks in a deep breath. Unable to keep himself contained, he pushes his own into my mouth, allowing them to slide over each other - _explore_ - before he pulls away just a little, and I bite down on his bottom lip. Groaning against the sensation, his arms pull me closer.

Just to be a tease, I grind my hips against his, enjoying the shudders that wrack through him at the contact.

"Hngh… that's really not fair, Flea…"

To hear that name again… I giggle, feeling significantly better. "You get turned on too easily. That is hardly my fault."

"Guh… It's unfair how much I want you right now…"

Fuck it. I'm sick of waiting.

"We could-"

"No," he cuts me off, regaining control of himself despite the look of pain in his eyes when he says it. "Not yet. I don't wanna hurt you."

"Shizu-chan…"

"No."

"Please…?"

I give him the most innocent, pleading eyes I can, as I slowly roll myself on top of him, straddling those hips. Another groan escapes him in reaction to the contact of me brushing against him. He's harder than I am.

"N-no…" he stutters, closing his silky lids over a pair of galactic orbs.

Bending forward, I attack his muscular neck in a crooked line of bites and kisses. The blond squirms a little, trying to tell himself that he does not want to take this opportunity as I offer it so freely. My body needs his. _Constantly_.

He's too busy gripping the sheets beneath us to retaliate when I unbutton his jeans, sliding them down enough to release his throbbing erection from tight restraints. Too overwhelmed to stop me as I wrap my hand around it and begin slow torturous strokes.

Finally, after several minutes of pathetic mewling and attempts to resist, his body relaxes beneath mine.

"You know you're being reckless, don't you?" he whispers in my ear, pulling his body upward from the mattress.

"Heh…" I breathe as his hands find their way up the front of my sweater and begin to massage my chest.


	58. Chapter 58

**Author's Note:** Well, it had to happen again at some point, ne? :3

* * *

><p>Sliding his hands down my sides after tracing over every rib, his thumbs hook into the hem of my shorts and I adjust, allowing him to pull them off.<p>

"No underwear?" he smirks with his heat reaching up into his eyes.

I shrug nonchalantly. There's nothing to say right now. Not with so much that needs to be done.

Without removing myself from his hot lap, I reach over to the drawer, pulling out a familiar tube if only to watch his eyes glint with a blend of excitement and nervousness, especially when I squeeze a more-than-generous amount of the thick gel in my hand.

Shizuo sucks in a deep breath, shuddering when I apply it to his hard length without warming it up first. It only turns him on more as he hisses, "Shit!"

I wipe the remnants of the lube on myself, sliding my fingers over my hole before one goes in.

"Hnn…" I moan, at my own touch, loving the look of amazement on the blond's perfect face as I pleasure myself in his lap.

Another finger slips in after a few more pumps, joining mine. I stare at him with surprise, unable to find the words to ask him what he's doing. There's no point. I already know. And it's fucking hot.

Oh god.

Fuck, it's hot.

Feeling my face redden, I'm about to slip my finger out to replace it with more when he's own finger brushes against my prostate; just about killing me as the whole damn world goes white.

It takes all that I have not to explode now.

And then he does it again.

"Hnnnghh! Ahh…" I can't help but mewl, "Sh-Shizu- ooooh -chan…"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not enough.

Almost viciously, I pull my finger out, grabbing his wrist. He immediately pulls his own out, just in time for me to grab our dripping cocks and rub them together.

I love the hot look on his face as he bites his lip. It's filthy and beautiful all at once.

Shizuo's eyes slip closed, and I can't hold out anymore.

Repositioning myself over him, I angle myself just right - perfectly - as I impale myself on that hardened heat. The action sends both of us into an incredible overdrive. It hits my sweet spot instantaneously, forcing my toes to curl while my hands grip his shoulders as hard as they can, and I've never been so happy for my right hand to be healed if only to feel his sultry skin beneath my palm.

I ride him, fighting past the trembling of my knees as I force myself up and down, up and down, over and over and fucking over again, never minding the infinite spots that cloud my vision.

He feels so amazing inside of me. So full and promising. So hot.

"Fuck… Izaya…" he groans my name, squeezing my ass in his strong hands.

Burying my face in his neck, I continue to bite, lick, suck, every available patch of skin until markings ranging from soft being to a deep plum freckle his skin like some sort of leopard spots.

The blonds hips jerk several times. I can sense he's close, and so am I. So very, very close.

"Come with me," I smile, allowing my breath to ghost over his ear; loving the shudder it elicits.

He nods twice, drowning in too much ecstasy to form the proper words.

Slamming myself down on him several times, I feel his hand wrap around my own erection, and it is the end for me. "Hnnn… Oh, shit…. Ahhhn… Shizuo…." I moan his name, releasing onto us both.

When I am empty and numbed by the afterglow, he thrusts several more times before joining me in sheer bliss.

All I can really think about is how much we needed this.

* * *

><p>"Are you ready?"<p>

He looks at me for a moment, understanding by my inflection exactly what I mean. For nearly two days, I've been thinking diligently about it, and I can't hold it in any longer. It's slowly beginning to squeeze the air out of my lungs.

After sleeping with him for a second time, I know I have to tell him. About Namie. About my parents. About my fears. Everything needs to be said if we want to continue this relationship. No more hesitating.

I know I'm far from having my life back in order, but I nearly snapped last night. I don't know what happened. I can't explain it. I just… can't keep waiting. One minute, everything was fine. The next, I found myself throwing my computer mouse at the monitor… and… well…

"I've been ready," he says with a subtle frown tugging at the corners of his perfectly shaped mouth - perfect for mine. "It's you I'm worried about…"

I pass Shizuo a fresh cup of tea and a usual box of sugar cubes before joining him on the couch.

Never in my life have I had the desire to be so blatantly honest…

"Yesterday…" I try to breathe - try to keep myself from having a heart attack right here and now.

"Don't worry about it," I warn him, silently hoping that I'm not facing side effects of pills or brain surgery - both of which I'm trying to make an eager effort to put behind me. I may always be medicated, Shinra thinks, but I can get myself back. "Are you alright?"

Could I actually want to change?

I nod once. "Better now… last night…"

"Last night was amazing," he smiles honestly.

We're a few inches apart; still his warmth radiates off of him, like a heat lamp of some sort… or that abandoned electric blanket. Come to think of it… I can't even remember where I put the thing. I don't need it anymore.

"Shizuo," I speak abruptly, opening up the conversation to a not-so-subtly subject change. It practically slaps the grin from his face. "I love you…"

The look of confusion that swipes across his face is a little cute. "I love you too, but I thought you said -"

"I know what I said," I sigh, "And that's why we have to talk about it. About us… Because if we don't, I just know it opens us up to getting hurt all over again, which is something I don't think I could take…"

"I just wanna put the past behind us…" he tells me, furrowing his eyebrows.

"So do I; however, I don't believe we can do that until we're both sure that we've learned from the mistakes we've made, and certain truths are laid out…"

"Truths…?"

"Remember when you asked me about my secrets?"

He nods soundlessly, becoming more aware of the seriousness between us.

"You'd asked what hurt me, and it took losing you to admit that it was love…"

"I remember."

"But... the more I think about it the more I've come to realize…" drawing in a deep breath, I release it slowly, piecing the words together in my head just right before I speak them. "Perhaps it isn't love that hurts us, but us who hurt love…"

"Izaya…"

I flinch as his hand caresses mine, reacting only to pull it out from under him. Reacting to fear…

Even through all of this, I'm still terrified. I don't want to lose anymore; much less lose Shizuo. Yet I know that the things I have to say run that very risk.

"I'm so sorry…" I apologize, feeling my hands begin to tremble as they did when I lived my days in agony.

If only it were so simple as to blame it on a migraine. This would be infinitely easier. Then again, I was the one who did this to us. I'm the one who had to be an idiot; so I'm the one who has to make amends, whether or not a month and half has gone by since then…

"I slept with Namie - my assistant - after you left…"


	59. Chapter 59

**Author's Note:** I don't wanna do anything but sleep today.

Blaaah. Thank you all for everything. Feedback and all!

* * *

><p>"When you rejected me…?" he asks in a soft voice, almost a whisper.<p>

"Yes…"

Slowly, he sets his cup of tea on the coffee table before leaning back into the cushions of the couch, arms crossed. An unreadable expression etches itself across his face; eyes dancing with emotions unfamiliar to me.

Heiwajima Shizuo has never appeared so contemplative before my eyes.

I decide it's best to keep my mouth shut until he has a response.

When it finally arrives, it is not at all what I was expecting. Then again, when it comes to this blond, nothing ever is.

"Okay," he says casually - if not a bit quietly.

"Tch… that doesn't make you want to walk out on me right now?"

He passes me an awkward look, raising a brow as if he has heard me spew some piece of ludicrous information that couldn't possibly be accurate.

"Should it?" he questions.

Well, it would for anyone else…

"I walked out on you once already, Izaya," he says, mastering all seriousness, "I'm not about to do it again. Not without thinking things through first… I mean, yeah, I guess it kinda hurts that you did it… but… I had no intention of seeing you again when I left that day… so what you did with my confession really wasn't up to me… Even if you denied me, I'm the one who left without a fight."

"I see…"

Eyeing me carefully, he proceeds to ask, "Did you enjoy it?"

Scoffing, I shake my head. "No. Probably the worst sex I've ever had…"

"Well, that's kinda nice to hear…" he smirks slightly, giving me the welcoming sensation that we're just that much closer to figuring all this out.

But it isn't over yet. There is still plenty more that needs to be said…

"I've been with her before… but after you…" I shakily breathe, "I don't know… After _you_, everything just feels different… You were on my mind the entire time."

A gentle pink dusts his cheeks as he shyly looks away from me. "You're always on my mind…" he mutters.

"That's what's so terrifying…" I tell him. "You're the first person to have feelings for me who hasn't backed down so easily, even after so many warnings. I told you over and over again in an attempt to scare you away from attaching yourself to me. I didn't want you to become just another victim of my promiscuity. I didn't want to drag you into my attempt to seek numbness for what I can only describe as self-loathing. Yet I can't stop thinking that I'm the one who got attached in the first place…"

"You… but… You said you didn't want love."

"I didn't… And then I realized how easy it is to confuse wants with needs… I never wanted love, because I didn't want to feel that pain of losing it. All the same, I realized that rejection is just as painful. Without you, I doubt I'd ever have it figured out."

"So you do want it?" he makes sure to understand. "And I was pulling you toward it?"

"Aye. Here's the catch, Shizu-chan… I only want it from you."

Jolting a bit, he sits up straight, being sure that he's just heard my heavy words correctly. As if he were walking through a dream, he takes my face in both of his hands, goldenrod eyes desperately searching for a lie within mine. He finds none.

"When there are so many?" he wonders, letting his thoughts roll off the tip of his tongue. "Anyone you pass a look at with these eyes of yours would be willing to drop dead for a minute of your attention. There are plenty of people out there, willing to love you; willing to give you so much more than I ever could…"

"So why you?" I half smile.

"Why me?"

Pulling out of his hold, I stare nervously at my hands; attempting to mentally chase away the trembles.

"I have everything I want, or at least the means to obtain it," I explain, "I don't need you to give me anything. That's the difference between you and… let's use Shiki-san as an example. Yes. It's true that he could hand me virtually anything I asked for. If I wanted an island in the Caribbean, he could probably buy me one. However, I don't want an island; nor do I have any use for one. And yes. It's true that he loved me, but his affections were no different than that of anyone else's. Rather prolonged…"

"Prolonged? Then why didn't you just break up with him?"

"A sense of security, perhaps… _Guilt_…? I don't know, especially given that I was so unfaithful to him despite his efforts. Then again, he knew it, too. He wasn't holding my attention. Eventually, he even became somewhat predictable, rarely surprising me despite his constant efforts. You, on the other hand…"

I smile out of sheer nervousness, wishing this conversation could end already. I hadn't realized until this moment how much there is to say between us. Or, rather, me to him…

"You give me a run for my fucking money," I say, attempting to sound light, despite the imaginary anvils that weigh down my voice. "You terrify me, and at the same time, I feel like I'm constantly being pulled toward you."

"Like a magnet?" he voices a comparison.

"No," I shake my head, "Like a moth. Do you know why moths are attracted to light bulbs?"

"Never thought about it," he shrugs.

"They confuse false light for the moon," I explain, "Some believe the moon is a navigational tool which allows them to develop migration patterns in order to find their way home. In turn that leads them to proper regions for mating and feeding. Then again, it's just a hypothesis. Nobody really knows."

"I don't think I get it."

"I think that's what I'm like," I tell him, "Only, I've been following those false lights on purpose. To avoid the real thing. Because, like a moth, it's hard to tell the difference sometimes. Maybe they're not even confused. Maybe they're scared like I am, until one day, they get it figured out…"

"I think I like my magnet analogy better," he huffs, rubbing his eyes.

I don't say anything to this, but somehow, I find myself in agreement… "You don't give me what I want, Shizuo," I tell him, "You give me the things I never knew I needed… even when that means knocking some sense into me every once in a while."

"I'm sorry… I-"

"No, Shizu-chan," I can't help but chuckle, "Thank you."

"Oh…"

"Which brings me to my next point, I suppose," the laughter dies down and I find myself shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

"There's more?" he asks, not annoyed, but dumbfounded that I have so much to confess.

If anything, I'm only showing him how fucked up I really am… Talk about embarrassing…

"The worst part about any of this is that I tend to do exactly as was done to me," I sigh, tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling.

I feel his eyes trailing up and down my body, from my face to my knees. "That girl you talked about…? When you got me outta jail?" he wonders.

Closing my eyes, I try my best to hold down tears. "That girl is my mother…"

"Y-your mom!" he nearly gasps, "But…"

"Growing up, she was never around; never there for me when I needed her the most. She and my father travel for business… Despite his warnings, often times begging her to stay in Japan to raise us, not even children could slow her down. Work is much too important."

"What did you do…?" Shizuo asks cautiously. "I mean… without your mom and dad…"

"Put up with my grandparents as an alternative until I thought I was old enough to take care of myself… Often times, I would call her, begging her to come home, making up one reason after the other; getting myself into trouble just so I could hear her voice on the other end of a phone line."

"That's terrible," he whispers painfully.

"It was…" I say, giving up; allowing the tears to glaze over my eyes as I open them, "She was constantly gone so long, and so often, that one day I realized that I can't remember what she looks like without the aid of a photograph."

"Seriously? Your own mom…?"

"Both of them, actually. If you were to ask me which of my parents I look like, I really couldn't tell you. Maybe I don't look like either… Perhaps I resemble both. I should ask my sisters sometime… They would know…"

"That's… I dunno…" he mutters, unable to fathom a life without his family, I'm sure… given how close he seems to be to that brother of his.

"My parents would come home, and by the time she was there for me, I was too upset with her to see her. I wanted nothing to do with her; so I'd lock myself in my room and cry until she left again. It seems as though each time I was ready to face my mom, she was already gone, or at least rushing out the door for something more important."

"And your father?"

"He couldn't do the things I needed my mother for. He's a good man, and I understand his desire to provide for his family. Not to mention… he's the last person I wanted to go to when I lost my virginity to my best friend - another male, no less. It was terrifying… realizing I had these feelings - this attraction - to other men and not having a single clue where to go, or who could help me, with the thoughts swirling around in my head. I wanted my mother during those times. I wanted to be told it was alright… that I wasn't as crazy as I was beginning to believe."

"I can see why…"

"I needed her, but she was always too consumed by other things. And it rubbed off on me, I guess… that rejection… I couldn't live with that again. I couldn't stand to hurt the way she had hurt me…"

"So you did everything you could not to feel that way again… You left before you could be left…"

"Disgusting, isn't it?"

"Can't say I blame you… You needed her, and all she gave you was fear and abandonment…"

"Pathetic, ne? Just look at all of the monstrosities I've created because of it…"

As I reach up to wipe away a sliver of tears, Shizuo catches my hand in his own, replacing the possible contact by kissing it away with soft lips.

"I'm sorry, Shizu-chan…" I whimper as he pulls me close.

"It's not your fault."

His words almost burn as I lean into his chest, listening to the beating of his strong heart while he soothingly slides his fingers up and down my arm.

I love him so terrifyingly much, I can barely think… barely breathe… "You deserve so much better than this…"


	60. Chapter 60

**Author's Note:** I'm hungry. And I'm also out of things to say. kadghkajghalg

* * *

><p>"Lucky for you, this isn't about me."<p>

"No…?" I ask, not allowing my crying to impede the calm that has blanketed my senses due to the pleasant thumping of his heart.

"It's about us," he breathes, burying his face in my hair; inhaling deeply.

On one side of my head his hot breath weaves through my hair, sending chills down my spine, while on the opposite side, his thumb gently strokes my scar. Momentarily, I must wonder if he has some sort of fascination with the new marking, or if he really is wishing to rub it away.

"And what is it that you want for us, Shizu-chan?" I have to wonder.

"I don't care," he shrugs, almost too casually, "I just wanna be with you…"

I have to tease. "Even if we're miserable?"

Burying his hand even deeper in my hair, he nuzzles against my cheek, pressing a kiss into my jaw line. Damn his lips. Damn them. Damn this addiction he has burdened me with.

"Better to be miserable with a damn flea like you… than all alone," he tells me softly before pressing our lips together.

"You sure about that?" I breathe when we pull apart, my breath hitching beneath his touch.

"I am."

"How do you know?"

I realize that I'm probably sounding rather cruel the way I interrogate him. But I want him to be sure. If we do this, we both already know there is no turning back. It's impossible. Therefore, if he wants out, it has to be now. Today.

"Because… you're my first…"

Sighing, I realize I'm am displeased with this answer. "Shizuo… firsts usually end in heartache and some variation of violent misery…"

"Not when the first is such a constant," he explains bashfully, "You've been at the top of the list for just about everything…"

I do confess I am taken aback.

"Oh…? Care to fill me in?"

Continuing his gentle caresses, Shizuo nods enthusiastically. "First real fight. First person I ever legitimately hated. First time I got hit by vehicle. First time I got arrested. First ti-"

"Shizu-chan," I frown, interrupting him, "None of these are exactly good things."

He his quick to shut me up, placing a kiss on my lips as he goes on.

"First kiss…"

The shyness in his voice opens me up to see his point.

"First time… y'know…"

"Having sex?" I fill in the blanks, amazed by how cute he actually is for struggling with such a small word.

He nods, still feeling overcome by shyness. "First time falling in love… First time being rejected. First time I ever cried for somebody… First person to not be afraid of me… First person I am absolutely sure about."

Even I have to admit that this man has a pretty long list going here. All of which is true. _Sincere_. It counts for something. It's meaningful. Sure, it might sound a little bit corny… but… I can see it in those honey irises. He means this; living it with every fiber of his most fascinating being.

"Remember what I told you?" he wonders, perpetually clinging to a hope that I know relies on me.

Thinking back on all of the conversations we've ever had about relationships, I soon find myself nodding slowly, hoping that I remember correctly what he had said. About love.

"_What do you want, Shizuo?" I had asked him._

_I remember the burn in his eyes - like dying fireworks sparkling against a hopeless night sky._

_"If I could live my life with one person, knowing I could never hurt them... that would be enough..." he had sighed. "I'd love them with everything I've got. Fuck the rest." _

And so it is with this that I dare to ask him once more.

"What do you want, Shizuo?"

His fingers abandon my hair, soon crawling down my neck before tracing circles on my shoulder.

"No matter what the past has been," he speaks after a thick silence, "You are enough, Izaya. You're everything."

"How can you know that for certain…?"

"It's in your eyes. It has been this entire time. All of these months, through every second of pain, and every moment you've been in my arms. I just know."

Shizuo doesn't do what I expect of him. Ever. He does better. Constantly exceeding any and all expectations, which leads me to conclude that this is what makes him right. Right for me. Because how can he be boring if he's consistently unpredictable in such a fashion that throughout all of our years - hating one another or not - I haven't been able to pick up a pattern from him. There exists no such thing.

For instance, I spilled my heart to him, and he didn't run away. Instead, he opened up to me too. Evened out the playing field by never letting me stand alone.

* * *

><p>After our long conversation about apologies and deciding whether or not we were going to continue this relationship of ours, the choice was pretty obvious, even when I questioned his sexuality…<p>

"How can you be sure that you're not interested in women instead?" I kept asking question after question, making sure to bury all of the loopholes before I could officially consider him my boyfriend.

"They've never interested me much before," he smiled, lifting weight off of my chest… extracting fear little by little.

"Do you have a preference?" I had to ask.

I had to know that one of these days he isn't going to go to work and never come back to me because he met some bombshell blond with big tits; who gives him an incurable hard-on that I could never compete with…

"Yeah," he scoffed, "_You_."

"That isn't what I'm asking," I told him, hiding my amusement behind narrowed eyes.

"Can't help it if it's true… You're it…"

With these thoughts constantly invading my head, I take his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together as we walk into Ikebukuro for the first time in two months.

Much of my former strength has returned to me. I've never been so glad to put on ten kilos in my life. And the work is slowly trickling back in, much faster than anyone would have expected.

I have not been in this city since -

People are staring. Hundreds of eyes watch us with bewilderment as we push through the crowds. Humans, whose faces I will not remember tomorrow, cause a knot to tighten in my stomach, especially when the whispers begin. However, the majority stays silent, too stunned by what they are witnessing to muster the proper words for the scene.

"Try not to think about it," he reads me without even looking in my direction.

His hand squeezes mine reassuringly, while his other brings a dying cigarette to his lips for a final drag.

"They're staring at us… like we're animals…" I nearly sneer.

"Nah," he laughs quietly, "Pretty sure 'Bukuro has always looked at us pretty fucking strangely…"

"Not like this…" I frown, moving closer to him. "It's almost predatory…"

Unable to call this feeling "threatened," I'm uncomfortable to say the least, as most of this city thought I'd vanished long ago. Shizuo even said the rumors had died down. What shall become of them now?

For the first time in years, I'm legitimately happy. I don't want to hide that. I don't want to skirt around the truth, giving ambiguous answers to fairly straight questions. I want to say that I am in a relationship with this man, who holds my hand as we walk to the hospital.

So whatever it is these people have to say… I must remember that - curiosity aside - I know the truth. I know what is important.

_Damn it._

I've been out for too long. This is certainly going to require some adjusting…

They've never been threatening before. They should not be now either. They're humans… they are my original experiment. My strange little creatures who exist to bend to my will and mine alone.

Orihara Izaya can still be great. At twenty-four… I still have one hell of a life to live.

Taking a deep breath, I brush the stares off, aiming to be pleased just by the attention, and walk through the hospital's front doors, unknowing if I will soon be facing good news, or bad news.


	61. Chapter 61

**Author's Note**: Almost done! Just a little bit more.

Thank you all so much for taking interest in this story. I'm so glad you enjoy it!

* * *

><p>"What a relief…" I grin, feeling on top of the world as Shizuo and I exit the hospital.<p>

A slight sting in my arm, on the inside of my elbow, burns and itches from the spot where I had blood drawn. All worth it as the first test quickly came back negative. Quickly, because I wasn't about to wait around for a week for the results, and I can be very persuasive to get what I want. Who knew doctors caved into an extra ten-thousand yen so easily? It's not that much money. Ha!

It took all of two hours for him to tell me I was fine, and to come back for another test in three weeks. Considering that the tumor was fully removed, he doesn't expect another, sticking with Shinra's theory that it could still have formed from a past head injury, causing a strange mutation of cells.

The look on Shizuo's face at those words was dreadful until I convinced him that it could have been from anything, or anyone. He isn't the first person to hit me; certainly not the last.

Draping a long arm around my shoulder, the blond in question pulls me close, equally enthusiastic.

"What do you say we celebrate?" he laughs, shoving me in the opposite direction of home.

"Where?" I wonder aloud.

"C'mon. I'll show you."

"Oooh~ A surprise, Shizu-chan?" I giggle.

"Something like that. Sure. Let's go!"

Practically skipping down the street, we interrupt ourselves every once in a while to push each other up against walls and into alleys for either a grope or a kiss. We're not at all old, but he is certainly making me feel years younger with this childish behavior controlling our every move. Like two high school sweethearts who can't keep their needy hands off of each other. The kind you imagine must suffer when they're forced apart.

And truly, we do.

"Tell me where we're going," I insist after a brief pause behind a vending machine.

"Around the corner," he remains ambiguous, tugging me along.

I huff, making sure it's the most exaggerated expression he has ever seen from me.

"Oh stop," he snickers, pulling me around said corner.

We soon walk into a building. An apartment to be exact. My heart stops.

"Is this where you live?"

"Sort of…" he suddenly becomes shy as he leads me toward the stairs.

"What do you mean 'sort of?'" I ask, fixing him with a curious stare.

He's trying to ignore it. My eyes boring into him like I'm going to jump him at any moment and rip out his jugulars. At least… that's how he looks, and I have to say, something about it is turning me on.

"Shizu-chan," I speak again, reminding him that he can't just ignore the question.

"Well, it's like… I'm always at your place, y'know?" he shrugs, failing so hard at being nonchalant that I know this isn't it.

Working our way up about seven full flights of stairs, we finally find ourselves on the eighth floor of the building. Slowly, I've been able to figure it out.

There's no way this place is in his current price range. These lofts are far too upscale for that.

Shoving away his nervousness, he shifts, scratching the back of his head when we stop in front of a large wooden door. Inhaling deeply, he soon pulls a set of keys from his pocket.

"My brother… got me a deal on the place…" he almost sounds embarrassed. "I… It's a little…"

Leaning against him, I shut him up as I snatch the key out of his hand, inserting it into the lock. "Don't worry about it. Let's just go inside, ne?"

"Right…"

He opens the door, and we walk in. Before taking off my shoes, I look around. It's a decent place. A well-structured studio apartment, complete with the bedroom which almost seems to be in the kitchen, but not quite. It's too spaced out for that, despite it's one room. Still too pricey for Shizuo had the actor not done him a favor, I'm sure… but… it's clean. Not as tiny and dingy as I expected it to be. Though it is practically devoid of any furniture.

The cliché home of the single man in his mid-twenties? Almost.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking? Tell me," I make the small demand as I finally leave my shoes at the door, stepping deeper with in the place he calls home.

"It looks ridiculous."

"No it doesn't," I shake my head, "Though, it is a little plain… but… hey, who am I to talk?"

"Tch. There's nothing plain about you…" he tells me, leaning against the wall as I look around, taking in the simplicity of the kitchen, the taupe couch and the television that is half the size of mine.

The dresser with nothing but an ashtray and a spare pair of sunglasses sitting next to a picture frame filled with the faces of two young boys. Dark green curtains, a kotatsu in place of a coffee table (which makes me raise a brow), and a large futon in the farthest corner of the room.

Minimal decorations hang on the walls, and the bathroom breaks off into a separate area of the studio, across from which, I can see a decently sized closet space.

I sort of like it… just because… because it is so very Heiwajima Shizuo.

"Do you miss sleeping in your own bed?" I wonder from out of the blue.

"Not really."

Stepping forward, I take his hands in mine, slowly coaxing him toward the futon in the corner.

His saccharine eyes lock onto mine, picking up my thoughts.

"Let's stay here tonight," I speak softly.

"You wanna?"

"Why else would I ask?"

Slipping out of mine, his hands drop down to my waist, hooking onto my hips with a subtle hint of desperation. Good. He feels it too.

Everything happens so much faster than I could have predicted.

In a matter of moments, we're skin against skin, having discarded our clothing in miscellaneous piles surrounding the soft futon beneath our bodies.

The sensation of him towering over me with such incredible strength, cocooning me in mystical heat, makes me feel so safe. Wanted. Unbreakable. Even better are his lips across my collar bone, while his fingers lace with mine and he grinds against me, torturously slow.

Through it all, despite the torturous heat flowing back and forth from his skin to mine - like tiny volts of electricity working as one huge mass - all I hear is our heavy breathing, as if we are too overwhelmed by these sensations to emit a sound.

Wriggling one hand out of his grip, he pulls back with curiosity. All I can do is smile, vanquishing any possible worry that might come from escaping his touch. But I'm not. I'm giving him mine.

Silky lids drape over his glassy, sweet eyes, sinking into my fingertips tracing over the contours of his face, memorizing every detail with my hands as if I were blind and seeing him for the first time. With this thought, my eyes close too, and I wonder if I would be okay with that; concluding that I could, indeed, lose my vision.

It wouldn't bring me down. No. It would be an excuse to touch him more. A reason to stay close. A purpose for his hand to never let mine go.

Instruction need not be given as my touch pulls his lips back to mine for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

I'm not sure if he's simply a natural, or an expert on my body. Nevertheless, this man knows exactly where to touch, and how. His precision is immaculate, only turning me on more has his free hand snakes down toward my arousal, making sure to stiffen it more as gentle fingers slide up and down.

Back arched, my body needs more. So much more. And he knows, smiling into one of many fervent kisses.

Damn it. These things you do to me!

Removing his hand is worth the sacrifice as he reaches over to the short bedside table, grabbing for a bottle of lotion.

Sitting up, his eyes rake over my exposed body, devouring me. Swallowing me into his soul while he squirts a generous amount of the cream into his hands; coating his long fingers before gently gliding one inside. I fucking love the way he watches me react.

Shizuo stretches me with those magic fingers until I'm more than ready, yet I swear he avoided my prostate on purpose. If only to make this experience more painful.

He pulls me into his lap after coating himself with another squeeze of lotion. With ease, he slides himself into me, not even watching himself as he goes in. Instead, he watches the look on my face as I melt for him.

That's when he takes his cue to move.

Slow. Dominating. Perfection.

That's what I feel as he slides in and out of me, gently picking up speed until he is angled exactly where he needs to be.

A soft moan is all that escapes past my lips as my fingers and toes curl in response to his dick slowly brushing over that insidious sweet spot of mine. I shudder, lightly rolling my hips as an indication that I need more. I need all that he can give.

Said needs do not go ignored.

In a matter of moment, my walls are clenching around him by their own accord as I reach the highest peak of my orgasm. The blond quickly follows, sweat dripping from his blond tresses, landing on my forehead as he kisses me.

The afterglow is decadent. An immaculate blend of racing hearts, heavy breathing, and a tingling sensation alive, all the way down to the depths of my soul.


	62. Chapter 62

**Author's Note:** One more after this.

Again, thank you so much for all of your love and reviews. It means a lot!

* * *

><p>My thoughts go wild underneath the hot jet of water pounding against the back of my neck as I clean our lust from my skin. The temperature of the stream is as hot as I can take it, reddening my pale flesh with a soothing sting.<p>

Staying here tonight has provoked my thoughts, evolving them into so much more that I imagined they could ever become. He means so much to me that it's almost unbearable…

"Shizuo…" I mumble to myself, watching the suds rush off my skin and collect at the drain.

I have to ask myself several times if I'm sure; yet, in the end, I know that the part of me asking is the same part living in fear. The same part who wants to deny that this will never work. That we can't be. That all we can ever become is a massive failure.

My heart says this is not true. And I know it is my heart that I should follow…

As cheesy as it seems, this love is real. No matter how difficult it is to convey… it's there. So fucking palpable that it leaves its touch stained on my heart.

Stepping out of the bathroom in fresh clothes - Shizuo's clothes - I continue to squeeze the water out of my hair with a towel, as if it will squeeze out all of the right answers to any of my future questions.

Tch.

As if _I'm_ that lucky.

"Hey," he greets me with a soft, charming smile, "I ordered pizza for dinner. Hope you don't mind."

Shaking my head, I position myself on the opposite side of the counter from where he stands with his phone book. He could have just ordered online, or from an application in my phone, but in a weird way, it's kind of charming that he would be so old school.

"I know you don't like fast food and stuff, so I found this place that seems like something you might like."

Raising a brow, I say nothing, knowing what words will come out the moment I speak.

"It's like… real pizza, though. Kasuka told me about it. The guy who owns it is actually Italian."

I smile at the excitement dancing in his eyes.

"Never really knew Tokyo had quite so many foreigners. Like Simon… even if he's Russian… I guess…"

When I don't answer, he stares at me, perplexed by my lacking response. His head tilts. He appears worried.

"Everything okay, Izaya?" he wonders.

"Yeah. Fine," I smile and nod.

"You look upset…" he frowns. "You sure you wanna stay here?"

"Of course, Shizu-chan. I suggested it, didn't I?"

"I know, but…"

"Don't worry about it," I attempt to bite my tongue and drop the subject. I don't know how much willpower I have against this thing. I don't know how difficult it will be to hold back from saying those ludicrous words, no matter how badly I want to convey them.

I know Shizuo better than to think he would so simply leave it without question.

"I can't help that I do," he furrows his brows, almost appearing offended that I would attempt to brush him off so easily. But I'm not… That's… that isn't what I'm trying to do. At all.

Damn it!

What if _I'm_ not ready!

Fuck.

What if _he's_ not ready!

"What kind of pizza did you order?" I make a bold move to change the subject.

"One pepperoni, and one with spinach and mushrooms, and weird cheese you like."

"Feta? You're still really bad about foreign food, ne?"

"Whatever. Don't try to change the topic on me, Izaya."

"I'm not!" the lie is so bad I want to bury my face in shame, "I just wanted to know what we were having!"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

"_Izaya_."

"_What_?"

"Tell me what's wrong."

The pressure builds to levels of insanity. The kind that is impossible to come down from through any means of medication or therapy. At least, that's how I feel as my head feels ridiculously light, and my heart violently throws itself into my ribcage. It would crawl up my throat if I let it.

In fact, I almost want to. I almost want to just leave it alone to its own devices, even if that means allowing it to control me. Take me prisoner, even. So long as I am not cutting off my airways in an attempt to keep my mouth shut out of misplaced terror. Unnecessary fear, insisting that it bleed into my life for shits and giggles.

But I've spilled my heart to this man already. And it isn't as if I'm asking him to marry me - not yet at least. I just want him to…

"Move in with me, Shizuo."

Silence rapidly fills the room. Heavy silence. Deafening.

I've made a fucking mistake. I know it by the look in his eyes as the glimmer seems to die down despite how widened they are, and the dilation of his pupils, nearly canceling out that strange, gorgeous ring of gold.

"_Shit_!" I mutter, burying my face in my hands. I turn away, trying to avoid those eyes as best I can while I drown in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

Attempting to leave the small kitchen area, I decide I should go hide in the bathroom. For some reason, it seems like the best place to be. Locking myself behind a door so that he cannot see the shame on my face.

Instead, I come into contact with a chest.

"_Hmpf_!"

Grabbing my wrists, pulling them away from my face, I can sense his gaze begging for me to return my own. However, I am far too embarrassed to look at him, much less speak to him after something so… so stupid. So impossible!

Fuck my life and everything in it. Damn irrationality. What was I thinking?

"What did you just say?" he asks in such a strange tone that I cannot place the meaning of his inflection.

I try (read: _fail_) to pull back, finding it excruciatingly difficult to avoid his gaze. "Never mind… forget it."

"Izaya. What did you say."

Well, this is a command; not a question.

I shake my head adamantly. "It doesn't matter."

"Fucking… Yeah, it does! If it didn't matter, I wouldn't be asking. What did you say?"

"Nothing! Something I clearly shouldn't have!"

"And what makes you so sure?" his voice lowers in mild irritation.

"Because you're going to say 'no' regardless."

"Are you making that decision for me?" he asks, somewhere between a growl and something else I can't fucking place to save my pathetic, little life.

"Yes - NO!" I rapidly correct myself, trying (again, read: _failing_) to take a step away from him so that I can hide my shame. "I don't know… possibly."

This is pathetic of me… So pathetic.

"Ask me again," he demands, his grip just tight enough that I know I cannot wiggle my way out of this one,

Slowly, he backs me into a wall, keeping me pinned until I have no other option but to surrender.

"_Izaya_…"

"NO!"

"Izaya!"

"I want you to move in with me…" I finally sigh.

Releasing his hold, my arms flop to my sides. Feeling hopeless, I bring my eyes up to his, unsure of how to feel about the burning look in his special irises. I can see the reflection of my own eyes bouncing back at me. I can see myself with Shizuo for the rest of my life. And yet, I can't see myself out of this stupid fucking predicament I've just created.

"Let's sit down and talk about it," he calmly suggests.

I nod, feeling no better about this. Gently, he takes my hand, guiding my toward his couch; sitting us down side-by-side.

Talking never feels like a good idea. It's like that cliché point in movies and novels that involves a cold rejection, which always circles back to someone standing in the rain outside of the other's window, or an apology involving a radio and a favorite snack.

I'd love to think those scenes in movies were really something to look forward to in reality, but life has never been so simple. Instead, we get brain tumors, and deal with "My Mommy Didn't Love Me" issues.

And I really hate to sound so pessimistic, because in all reality, I'd like to think of myself as a realist with a positive outlook on life. Or at least I thought I was until formerly stated issues came forward, and could no longer be avoided. Then again, this is just me… making a silent excuse to keep my mind as far away from the inevitable as I possibly can. This is me being evasive, because it's so much easier to change the topic of my own thinking than to work the thoughts and ideas that terrify me above all else.


	63. Chapter 63

**Author's Note:** Well, we've finally made it. This is the very last chapter(s) of Chronic. It took months to write, but I'm glad I was able to finish. But what makes me even MORE glad is that people really enjoyed reading it for all it's length and constant angst.

Originally, I only intended for this story to be 50 chapters long on the kinkmeme, but somehow, I got to 127 and over 85,000 words. That's the most I've ever written for one story, I'm pretty sure. I mean, I write a lot about all kinds of stuff. Everything. But writing like this - and finishing - always makes me feel pretty accomplished. I'm so glad I was able to hold your interest, and thank you SO much for all of the kind words, favorites, and alerts.

With this final chapter, this story is complete, but there's no way I'll forget the experience I had in writing it, and what I got out of it from both myself and readers. It's a good feeling. So thank you.

I really hope you enjoy this final bit.

* * *

><p>I'm not running away anymore. No more pushing back those who want me. No. I'm ready for this. I don't have to be alone.<p>

"When did this idea spring into your head?" he asks me.

"I'm not sure…" I slowly confess, "I just began thinking… thinking that you're with me all the time as it is. That I want to be with you… and it happened…"

"It's a big request…"

"I know…" I agree, not including the part where I only just acquired the idea forty minutes ago. It's one of those things that should be heavily taken into consideration; sincerely thought about.

I just… I don't believe I'll be changing my mind…

Shizuo brushes my bangs out of my eyes, forcing me to look at him. "Are you sure it's something you want?"

"Look… if you don't want to… it was just a stupid idea. I get it if you'd rather be here…"

"It's not a stupid idea," he disagrees, "And if it seems like that's what it is, sorry… I'm sorta overwhelmed right now."

"Me too…" I breathe heavily… tugging at the hem of the brown shirt I have borrowed from the blond.

I try to think about the fabric. I try to tell myself that sepia isn't my color, and that I'd look much better in red or black, because, in doing so, I don't have to think about the possibility of dragging myself into another mess.

And then… if a mess is what this is… if a mess is what this will become… I know, without a shadow of doubt, that Heiwajima Shizuo would be there to help me clean it up.

In order to eliminate some of his stress, he unknowingly makes me envious as he lights a cigarette. "I dunno that you're ready…"

"_Me_?" I gape, hiding any agreement that he may be right. That is the last thing I want, whether or not it happens to be true, "Shizuo, I'm the one asking!"

"I know… but…"

So with everything I have, it's my turn to read him.

"Would you be ready?" I wonder, watching him jolt in his seat.

I give him a moment to think, relieved when he finally gets his thoughts at least organized enough for a conversation, even if a direct answer isn't possible at this time.

"I would be, yeah… It's just… I dunno if I can…"

"How do you not know?"

He shrugs. "Izaya, I dunno if I could afford it."

That seemingly immortal nervous pit awakens, expanding throughout my stomach. "What do you mean by that?"

"I can't just… move in like some sorta freeloader," he grimaces. "I don't even like that I get a discount on this place…"

"How is it freeloading if I want you there?" I attempt to comprehend his strange logic. "I'm asking you to live with me. It isn't as if you're crashing on my couch for one night, if only to eat all of my food and never leave… Besides, you work."

Rubbing his eyes, he tries to figure out how to explain what I simply cannot figure out on my own. I feel like an idiot.

"What kinda cheap boyfriend does it make me if I can't pay my share of the rent?"

"Rent?" I nearly scoff, "Shizuo, I _own_ that loft."

"And you paid for it with your money! I can't just move in somewhere for free after you spent so much."

"You can if I'm inviting you."

"Again…" he keeps up the argument as if to show off his pride. I don't want money to be so important, but he feels differently. "What sort of man does it make me if I'm unable to pay to take care of you?"

"Ne?" Suddenly, I want to laugh. "Shizu-chan… I'm a grown man; not a girl. I don't need you to take care of me, or treat me like some clumsy, little housewife who cooks for you all day while you're at work. Aside from recently poor health, I do pretty well on my own."

I almost want to cringe, perhaps even puke, at those words. "Pretty well" is a severe understatement and we both know it. No twenty-four-year-old should be as well off as I am, especially after being out of work for so many months.

"That doesn't mean I wanna skip out on it! It isn't an excuse!"

"Nobody is making excuses. Remember what I told you - you give me what I _need_; not what I want. I wanted an apartment in Shinjuku. So I bought it. But you… I want you… and I need you. So I'm asking you to live with me."

I take his face in my hands, silently telling him with my eyes to let down his walls of pride just as I have done for him over and over again.

"I refuse to live off of you," he tells me, mastering all seriousness.

"Fine," I agree, "Since the place is already paid for, we'll split the bills."

"Cleaning and groceries too," he adds on his own accord, leaning forward to kiss me.

I can tell he's still a bit unsatisfied, but he'll get over it eventually. No matter what his testosterone-filled ideas tell him he needs to do, we're doing this as a team.

* * *

><p>"Really, I never would have imagined I would see you two like this," Kadota passes Shizuo a box from the back of Togusa's van.<p>

They've been helping us move Shizuo in all day today, and none of them seem to be over the shock. In a sort of comedic way, it surprises me too, especially given the past. But I don't want to think about what has been. I'm too eager to look forward to what will be.

My future with the guy I used to hate.

"I told you they were meant to be~" Erika sings from within the van, using a bright pink camera to snap shots of me and Shizuo every time we're within a meter of each other.

I swear she could teach a class called Fujoshi 101. One in which she'd probably be the writer of the text book, and violate the minds (and eyes) of young girls with stalker-quality photos of young men who do so much as stand too close to each other.

"Anything is possible, I suppose," Walker shrugs with an innocent smile on such a mischievous face.

"But this! This was totally destiny!" the crazy otaku girl flails about, and I swear I see pounding hearts in her large, round eyes.

Shizuo simply shakes his head, amused by the insanity.

"Regardless," Kadota says with a smile, "I'm glad you two worked things out. Calms things down in this crazy world, doesn't it?"

"Or fills Erika-chan's mind with filthy yaoi thoughts," I tease, loving the way the girl almost acts as a cheerleader for my relationship. She even goes as far as to "squee" at my teasing words.

"I think that's the last thing I want to think about," he scoffs, "No offense."

"None taken. Just don't come to me a month from now, telling me you regret passing up the opportunity."

Kadota deadpans for a moment. "What?"

"You totally could have had this!" I grin, wiggling my body as if to flaunt my "stuff."

"Anyway, here's the last of them," my friend hands me a final box with a large roll of the eyes. "We'll get out of your hair."

"Thank you," my boyfriend and I say in casual unison.

"We'll call you about dinner," I add.

"Russia Sushi, right?"

"You got it! Eight o'clock… presumptively."

Shizuo and I wave a pleasant goodbye to our friends, eager to see them later tonight.

It was the blond's idea… Spending time with our friends in that familiar, strange restaurant, and I agreed, feeling that it has been much too long since I have paid Simon and Dennis a proper visit. As for the rest of my them – friends or not – I feel that it has simply been too long.

Celty comes by for work and to get paid. Shinra is there every Tuesday to check on me. Shiki-san calls me with jobs, while Akabayashi-san insists on a casual conversation. And my sisters… To actually spend time with any of them, and catch up…

Never having it before never got under my skin too much, but it was as if the world did a back flip the minute that bat came into collision with my skull.

Loneliness isn't a part of my life anymore. Even as the same Orihara Izaya I've always been, I do admit that some things have changed for the better.

I told Celty once that I could change my personality if I wanted to. The fact of the matter is that I didn't… not until I realized what I had to lose. Even against my will, I found myself coming face-to-face with my demons, changing for the better without losing myself or anyone else in the process.

I suppose that's what revelations are all about. Positive change. Doing what's right for yourself because it's good for you, if nothing else.

As he manages to carry six boxes in his strong arms, I stick with my one, happy to have it out of the way (read:_ on the floor_) by the time we reach my apartment. It feels good, silently observing this image of Shizuo's things slowly being dispersed around my home; thus making it _ours_. I'll even go as far as to say that I am confident in the belief that never again will I sleep alone. Never again, will I face my fears in solitude, but confide in this man - this man whom I love - when they threaten to steal the best of me.

Just accepting that I love somebody has been so surreal, like some huge gust of wind stealing me away before I can catch my balance.

Is this what it's meant to feel like?

Am I supposed to experience this sensation that life is zipping past me at impossible speeds, leaving me flailing to catch up? I do not want to miss a beat nor a breath. I want to memorize every fucking second as if it were the last.

Is it meant to be an entirely new take on insanity?

"Six months ago, would you ever have imagined this?" I ask Shizuo, opening his box of DVDs to add to my shelf.

For now, I won't worry about the lacking alphabetization. In fact, I plan on having Namie handle it on a different day. Miscellaneous placement is fine for now.

"No," he shakes his head, "But when I kissed you for the first time, I sorta hoped it would…"

Pacing over to me, he shoves the box of disks away with his foot, stealing their place on the floor.

By the look in his eyes, I know it was all worth it. From my misadventures with Kishitani Shinra, to being bashed in the skull. Every moment. Every breath. Scandal. Lie. Missing influences. Heartbeat. Heartache. Childhood nightmares. All of the pain and insecurities.

Chronic migraines becoming chronic love.

One disease slowly melting into another, showing us just what we've been screwing up – or altogether missing – over the long and lonely years.

So many obstacles, which seemed so undefeatable… All of them were worth it to get to this very point.

This is truly the best decision I've ever made.

"Are you happy, Izaya?" he asks with a warm white smile, combing my hair away from my eyes before brushing his thumb over my cheek.

Just the way he looks at me, so sincerely, is breathtaking in its own way. It's a trademark, reserved for me and me alone. Something you may see, but only I may own.

I feel myself sinking into the touch; nodding a gentle yes. Every time he touches me, I feel sparks. As warm as ever, now able to be enjoyed as a most valuable quality of this man, as opposed to a cure.

All along, maybe I was simply in need of some assurance – a promise that I wasn't making an irreversible mistake.

Looking back, it was never his heat, was it? It was Shizuo. It was everything he is. Everything I never knew I needed. Everything I plan to never let go.

It doesn't get much better than this.


End file.
